Frankenstein Family Vacation
by VioletRose13
Summary: Peter and Moira Frankenstein couldn't be more excited to visit their grandparents in London for spring break. But when their parents AND grandparents go missing, they have to team up with Shamus Holmes and Dr. Watson as well as get caught up in a crazy adventure of suspense, intrigue, and mystery in order to find their family and save them AND the city from a terrible fate.
1. Spring Break Begins

" _The last clue, Nora!" Sabrina exclaimed as she stood at the entrance of an estate she knew very well. "The Golden Apple Tree sapling is in the old Undergrove Manor!"_

" _And seconds away from being turned into mulch and applesauce!" Nora cried, looking at her friend through her glasses._

" _We'll see about that. Come on, you two; we have a tree to save!" Sabrina said before she, Nora, and Donnie the Doberman opened the rotting oak doors and ran inside._

 _When the three figures stepped inside, the doors slammed shut behind them, leaving them in complete darkness._

" _I've got this." Nora said before taking a flashlight out of the pocket of her skirt._

" _Oh my! Look who finally decided to show up." A deep voice mockingly called out._

" _Show yourself, Mr. B! And give us that sapling!" Sabrina yelled into the darkness._

" _Oh Sabrina, how can I resist a request like that?"_

 _The owner of the voice emerged from underneath the grand staircase; it was a tall round old man with thinning gray hair, thick rectangular glasses, and a large broom mustache. He was holding the pot holding the Golden Apple Tree._

" _Hello, Sabrina Drake and Nora Rodgers." The man said. "I was hoping you'd come tonight."_

" _Cut the small talk. This stops now." Sabrina spat, keeping her cool._

" _Give us that plant, Mr. B!" Nora yelled, trying not to sound too frightened._

" _Not on your life." Mr. B retorted with a sneer. "Once I get out of town, this tree is going to make me rich beyond belief!"_

" _Not if we have anything to say about it!" Sabrina said, furrowing her brow._

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Moira? Moira Frankenstein?" Mrs. McHenry said.

"Huh, w-what?" The little girl stuttered, nearly dropping her book onto her desk.

"Sweetie, I asked you to put your book away _three_ times already." The teacher replied. "The school day is about to end in a few minutes."

"Is it?"

Moira glanced up at the clock and saw that it was five minutes to 3:00; a few classmates giggled at her under their breath.

"Oh, so it is. Sorry, Mrs. McHenry." Moira apologized as she blushed in embarrassment.

"That's okay, dear." Mrs. McHenry said kindly before turning to face the rest of her class. "Well, it seems to me that we have a few extra minutes to spare before school is out."

The whole class suddenly cheered, clapped their hands, and smiled excitedly at one another at the mention of spring break; everyone seemed to have big plans.

"But before then, I'd like to know if any of you has anything exciting planned for spring break this year. Anyone, anyone?" Mrs. McHenry asked before a few students raised their hands waiting to be called on. "Floyd?"

"My mom and I are gonna go to the Grand Canyon." A round boy in a red t-shirt said.

"How nice. Thank you, Floyd. Becky?"

"I'm going to the science museum." A little redhead girl with a ponytail and freckles said.

"Very nice, Becky. Keith?"

"My dad and I are going fishing." A boy in a black baseball cap said.

"Sounds interesting. Giselle?"

"I'm going to be the flower girl at my cousin's wedding." A blonde girl with pigtails and wearing a pink dress said smugly.

"That sounds like fun. Shelley Sue?"

"My great-uncle is going to visit us all the way from Japan." A girl with braided hair said; Moira smiled at her.

"How sweet. Moira?"

"Oh, my family and I are going to London to visit my grandparents. We head out tomorrow." Moira said proudly.

"London? Oooh, sounds _very_ exciting."

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

"Alright, everyone. It's official; spring break is here." Mrs. McHenry said as her students started to gather their things. "I'll see you all in a week. Have fun."

"Bye, Mrs. McHenry." The students said in unison as they calmly left the classroom with their bags in tow.

"You're really going to London for spring break?" Shelley Sue asked as she walked beside her best friend in the hallway.

"Sure am." Moira said with a smile. "And I'm really excited about it. This is going to be my first time on an airplane, too."

"You'll be careful, won't you?" Shelley added. "A city as big as that could be dangerous."

"Of course, Shelley. I'll be with my family the whole time." Moira said with a chuckle.

"Good. And I say you're very lucky. It's not every day a kid our age gets to go to a completely different country than our own."

"Yeah. Who knows what'll happen?"

"…Maybe you could go on an adventure or solve a mystery."

"Like Sabrina Drake?"

"Exactly!"

Moira glanced down at the cover of the book she was reading earlier. It was titled: " _Sabrina Drake and the Golden Apples of Atlas_ ". She smiled before letting out a playful laugh.

"Haha, very funny." She said, shrugging her shoulders. "You know Shelley, I think I've come to realize that adventures like the ones Sabrina Drake has are pretty much the things that happen _only_ in storybooks, never in real life."

"Yeah, you're right." Shelley said, nodding her head and smirking. "I heard there are lots of beautiful sites and cool museums in London."

"I heard that too."

"Oh! While you're there, you need to promise me that you'll take LOTS of pictures."

"Absolutely."

The two girls did a quick pinky swear and smiled at each other before heading out the doors towards the buses that were waiting outside. They waved goodbye before walking off in different directions. Moira was about to climb onto the waiting bus before being stopped by a very familiar face.

"Hello, Moira." Giselle E. Gore said; her beloved pet cat Mr. Whiskers II was nestled comfortably in her arms.

"Hi, Giselle." Moira said, trying not to roll her eyes.

"You're going to London for spring break, right?" Giselle asked.

"Yeah… Why?" Moira replied.

"Nothing. It's just that… Mr. Whiskers II had a dream about you last night."

"…How do you know that?"

"Because this morning, he made this."

It was then that Giselle took out a small roll of paper towel, opened it, and showed it to Moira. It was her initial, but she grimaced when she realized what it was.

"Did you… get that out of the litter box?" She asked.

"My mommy says it's an omen." Giselle replied with a small nod. "Last month, he dreamed about Carl; he won a really big prize on the back of a cereal box. He dreamed about Shelley Sue the day she won the annual Spelling Bee. And he dreamed about Darwin the day he got stuck in a tree in the park. My mommy has told me that if Mr. Whiskers dreams about you, it means something big is going to happen."

Moira looked at Giselle, then at the paper towel, and then down at the cat that meowed at her. She glanced behind Giselle to see her twelve-year-old brother Peter approach and she smiled in relief.

"Hey, what's going on? We're gonna be late." Peter said.

"Oh, nothing Peter. Let's go home." Moira said as she and Peter climbed onto the bus. "And by the way, Giselle, you can keep that. I don't want it."

"What were you and Giselle talking about, Moira?" Peter asked as he and his sister made their way to their seats.

"Uh… I'll tell you when we get home." She replied as they sat down side by side.

At the dinner table that evening, Moira couldn't help but gaze at the meal in front of her with a dazed look on her face. The rest of her family took notice.

"Hey, Moira? Are you okay, honey?" Her mother, Elsa asked. "You hardly touched your food."

"Oh. Sorry, mommy." Moira said, glancing up at her mother. "I guess I'm just… a bit distracted."

"Distracted?" Victor, her father, asked. "Is there something bothering you?"

"Yeah, you've been awfully quiet on the bus ride home." Peter added.

"Well… to tell you the truth, I've been thinking about what Giselle said to me earlier today." The little girl replied.

"Oh boy. What did she tell you this time?" Peter mumbled.

"She said something about her cat having a dream about me and an omen, or something." She said. "Is something big _really_ going to happen to me?"

"Aw no." Peter closed his eyes and shook his head before looking back at his sister. "Moira, it's just Giselle trying to scare you."

"Your brother's right, sweetie." Victor added. "All of that stuff about omens, psychics, and people who can see the future is just nonsense and nothing more. Giselle is just trying to get under your skin, so don't listen to her. Do you understand?"

The girl thought hard about what her father and brother said; she usually thought they were always right. She looked up at her father with a small smirk.

"I think so." She said with a nod.

"That's my girl." Victor said, placing a kiss on his daughter's forehead.

"Now, have you kids thought about what you wanted to bring to London?" Elsa asked. "Because we need to get to the airport first thing tomorrow morning."

The two siblings looked at each other enthusiastically; they couldn't wait for tomorrow. When it was time for bed, Peter and Moira were too excited to fall asleep right away. Their bags were packed and ready to go and they sat on the edge of Moira's bed, looking at a book all about London.

"Wow, this is so cool!" Moira said, looking at the picture of a large gate leading to a tower.

"That's Traitor's Gate; it leads to the Tower of London which was used as a prison. Neat, huh?" Peter replied.

"I'll say! I can hardly wait until tomorrow!"

"Okay you two, it's time for bed." Elsa aid, peeking her head into Moira's room.

"Awww, mom! Just a few more minutes." Peter said.

"Yeah. Please, mommy?" His sister pleaded.

"No, kids." Elsa chuckled, shaking her head. "It's already past your bedtime. Peter, you need to get back to your own room and get some sleep. You two don't want to be too tired to even head out the door, do you?"

"No, we don't." Peter said, rolling his eyes and sitting up. "Goodnight, Moira."

"Goodnight, Peter." Moira said as she crawled under the covers.

Peter walked out the door and towards his own room when Elsa entered. She gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead and whispered,

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, mommy." Moira said before letting out a yawn.

"See you in the morning."

Elsa smiled, turned off the lights, and quietly walked out the door just as the eight year old girl had fallen fast asleep, thinking about all of the adventures she and her family were going to have in London.


	2. Arriving in London

"Kids, we're here." Victor said.

The two children eagerly looked out the bus windows and they marveled at a beautiful Victorian styled house as they pulled up to it. The family all grabbed their bags, got out of the bus, and walked up to the front door; Elsa knocked and an elderly couple answered with smiled adorning their faces.

"Mom, dad!" She exclaimed.

"Elsa!" They cried as they embraced their daughter.

"It's so good to see you, my dear." Elsa's father, Jonathon said before noticing Victor and smiling. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you too, Victor."

"Thank you very much, sir." Victor said, smiling and shaking Jonathon's hand.

"Victor, we missed you and Elsa so much since your last visit." Elsa's mother, Lydia added as she gave her son-in-law a hug.

"Hey, grandma and grandpa." Peter said as he and his sister stepped forward.

"Hi, guys." Moira said shyly.

"Peter, Moira!" Lydia exclaimed, showering her grandchildren in hugs and kisses.

"Look at you two! You've gotten so big!" Jonathon said, ruffling Peter's hair playfully.

"Oh, come in, come in. We don't want you all standing outside on the cold doorstep." Lydia said as the group made their way into the house.

"Wow, this is so beautiful." Moira said as she looked around, her eyes wide with awe.

"Thank you, dear. I decorated it myself." Lydia proudly replied.

"Why don't you kids go upstairs and get settled in while your mother and I talk with your grandparents for a little bit?" Victor suggested.

"Sure thing, dad. Come on, sis." Peter said, ushering his sister to follow him up the stairs.

"Right behind you, bro." Moira giggled as she followed close behind the twelve year old with their baggage in tow.

"Those kids." Jonathon chuckled before he turned to face his daughter and her husband; his expression changed from amused to solemn rather quickly. "Uh Victor, Elsa? There's… something you need to know."

"What do you mean, Dad? What's going on?" Elsa asked.

"What's the matter, Jonathon? What's wrong?" Victor added, wrapping an arm around Elsa's shoulder.

The two elders looked at each other, then back at the younger couple with concerned looks on their faces; something was definitely up.

"You see, some… rather unpleasant things have been happening around the city lately." Lydia spoke up.

"Unpleasant things? Like what?" Victor inquired.

"Like a few robberies, break-ins… but mostly kidnappings." Lydia hesitantly explained. "No one knows who's behind them or why they're happening, but it can't be for anything good. So we'll all need to be on our toes and be extra careful, especially the children."

"Yes; if anything bad happened to them or either of you, I'll never be able to live with myself." Jonathon said with a sigh.

"Don't worry, dad; we'll be fine." Elsa said, reaching out to grasp her father's hand.

"Yeah; as long as we're together, nothing bad is gonna happen." Victor added.

Upstairs, Peter and Moira were exploring the many rooms on the second floor, trying to find a good one for them to occupy.

"Hey, what about this big one?" Moira suggested.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure that's the master bedroom." Peter said before spotting an open door on the other side of the hall. "How about this one?"

They looked into the room through the open door and saw that it had two beds and was big enough for the both of them.

"Nice! But maybe we should check with grandpa and grandma about it first." Moira said.

"Good point." Peter replied, nodding his head.

"Hey, kids! You wanna check out the backyard?" Victor called from downstairs.

"Coming!" The children said in unison before leaving their bags by the door and going back down the stairs to see what their parents wanted.

When they made it to the backyard door, they saw their parents and grandparents standing in the middle of the most beautiful garden either of them had ever seen. Their eyes brightened when they stepped into this very garden.

"Do you kids like it?" Lydia asked.

"Grandma, this garden is amazing!" Peter exclaimed.

"Thanks. I've been working on this little thing for the past few months." Lydia said proudly.

"Oh! Kids, there's something else we want you to see." Jonathon said, leading his grandchildren to a large tree in one corner of the yard.

"What's up there?" Moira asked.

"Well, climb up this rope ladder and find out." Jonathon said playfully, showing off a custom-made rope ladder.

"Ladies first." Peter said, allowing his sister to go ahead of him.

Moira rolled her eyes and began to climb up the ladder with her brother following close behind. When they made it to the top, Peter and Moira were surprised to see a beautiful new tree house.

"Whoa!" They cried.

"You like it?" Jonathon called.

Peter and Moira didn't answer; they were too busy exploring the tree house and seeing what there was to see.

"This is incredible!" Peter said.

"I know!" Moira added before opening a small window and gasping.

Peter went to join her and they were met with the most breathtaking view they've ever seen in their young lives.

"Look at this view! You can see the whole neighborhood from here!" Moira said.

"Whoa…" Peter added in astonishment.

"I take it you kids like the tree house?" Jonathon's voice asked.

"Are you kidding? This is so cool!" Peter cried, turning around to face his grandfather.

"Well, I'm glad you think so… because it's all yours." Jonathon said with a smile.

" _Ours_?!" The two children cried; their eyes wide with shock and surprise.

"That's right; I built this just for the two of you… with a little help from a couple neighbors."

"Well, it's awesome all the same. Thanks, grandpa." Peter said as he and his sister descended the ladder back down to the ground.

"Yeah, thanks so much." Moira said as she gave Jonathon a big hug.

"No problem." Jonathon chuckled, hugging the little girl back.

"Think of all of the adventures we're gonna have this week." Peter lamented.

"I'm sure it's gonna be amazing." Lydia said wrapping an arm around her grandson's shoulder.

Victor and Elsa looked at their children, then at each other; as long as they were careful, they knew this was going to be an exciting week.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Is that all you've got? Is that ALL YOU'VE GOT?! Come on; give me your best shot!"

"HIYA!"

"Whoa!"

A loud thud was heard, followed by a few gasps for air.

"Whew! Watson, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"Oh no, Holmes; I'm fine. But that _was_ quite the kick." A round man replied as he got back up onto his feet.

The man dubbed as Watson approached his companion, a man who was younger, taller, and thinner than him. His name was Shamus Holmes.

"You really think so?" Holmes asked, wiping sweat from his brow. "Because the last time I did a kick _that_ hard, I punctured a hole in the globe with my foot. And Mrs. Hudson next door was _not_ very happy with us about that; she said we were causing quite the ruckus."

"That was because we were practicing in the study and she was lending us the globe; a horrible decision, really. But I must say, you're getting better and better at this karate business. And I could safely say the same about your fencing lessons." Watson replied.

"That's because of _you_ helping me train, Watson. You make an excellent coach."

"Well… you were always a good student."

"Ahem. Mr. Holmes? Dr. Watson?"

The two men turned around to see a young woman in a maid's outfit standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands.

"I thought you might like some water and fruit, sir." She said timidly.

"Ah, refreshments. How thoughtful of you." Holmes said, taking the tray from her and setting it down on a nearby table. "Thank you, Nicolette. That will be all."

"As you wish." Nicolette said before briskly walking out the door and down the hall.

Holmes took a water bottle from the tray, opened it, and took a few healthy gulps of water from it as Watson grabbed an apple and took a bite.

"You really think I'm getting better?" Holmes asked, swallowing another swig of water.

"Yes, of course." Watson agreed before taking another bite of his apple. "And if you keep it up, you might even earn yourself a red belt."

"Who knows?" Holmes chuckled.

"You always know." Watson joked, making his partner laugh even harder.

"Master Holmes, Doctor Watson?" A third voice said.

A bald man with a handlebar mustache and wearing a gray suit was standing in the doorway with a serious expression on his face. It was most likely the butler.

"Yes?" Holmes asked.

"Someone is here to see you. He says it's very important." The man said.

"Alright, send him in." Watson said as Holmes nodded.

"Yes, Doctor." The man said before another man stepped into the room.

"Thank you. That will be all, Harold." Holmes said.

The butler, now dubbed Harold, nodded and exited the room, leaving the three men alone.

"Ah, Inspector Frederick LeStrade." Holmes said, politely shaking the man's hand. "What brings you to Baker Street today?"

"No time for small talk, Holmes. There's something you need to know, it can't wait." The Inspector said in a rude tone. "There have been even _more_ reported break-ins and burglaries going around the city… as well as _three_ more kidnappings."

" _Three_?" Watson repeated in shock.

"All in _one_ day." LeStrade replied.

"That is _awful_." Watson cried.

"Yes, and that's why I've come here." LeStrade said, turning to the younger man. "Holmes, I need you and Watson to take a closer look into these crimes and get to the bottom of this whole thing once and for all."

"But why come to _us_ , Frederick? Can't you and your men handle it?" Holmes asked, raising an eyebrow at the Inspector. "And if I remember correctly, you said you didn't want me to go poking my nose into Scotland Yard's business anymore."

"Never mind that. I came to you because you two are the finest detectives in _all_ of London." LeStrade explained. "My men can't wrap their heads around these incidents and if anything goes wrong, then these poor people would've disappeared without a trace, but I know for a fact that _you_ can find them no matter what. Here's a list of all of the people who recently went missing."

LeStrade handed Holmes a clipboard containing a list of the missing people along with their pictures and their addresses and a detailed map of a small quadrant of London. Holmes looked at the list, then handed it to Watson before glancing at the map; quite a few places were marked, most likely the places that have lately been ransacked.

"What do you say, Holmes? Will you do it?" LeStrade asked.

Holmes paused and thought about it for a moment before saying, "We'll see what we can find out, Inspector. And we'll find these missing citizens as well."

"We'll get right on it." Watson added.

"Good. Thank you." LeStrade breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you know where the latest crimes were committed?" Holmes asked.

"I do. The most recent was 2697, Robin Lane; home of the Jones family." LeStrade replied.

Holmes nodded his head at LeStrade before turning to Watson and saying, "There's no time to lose, Watson; to the scene of the crime."


	3. Something Big

That evening, Peter and Moira were sitting at the dinner table with their parents and grandparents; they were all eating chicken and pasta for dinner.

"This is great, grandma." Peter said, swallowing a bite of chicken.

"Yeah, the best." Moira agreed before helping herself to some more noodles.

"Well, I'm glad you kids like it." Lydia said with a proud smile.

"You know, Peter. I've been meaning to give you something." Jonathon said before getting up from his chair and heading towards the living room. "I'll be right back."

After a few minutes, Jonathon returned and kneeled in front of Peter. He then pinned something onto the boy's sweater; it was a small medal in the shape of a dragon wrapped around a sword. Peter's eyes widened.

"Whoa, what is this?" He asked.

"I received this medal back when I was drafted into the army during World War II, along with a few others." Jonathon explained as he and Peter walked over to a small cabinet filled with shining, gleaming medals all from the war; Peter's eyes widened. "But the one I just gave you? I won this for doing something that wasn't even commanded of me. I pushed one of my fellow soldiers out of the way of an incoming grenade, saving his life. The general was so impressed by my reckless actions that he gave me this."

"Wow, cool!" Peter said before realizing something. "But… why are you giving this to _me_?"

"This little thing was what got me through the rest of the war." Jonathon replied. "I thought that if I could survive that, I could survive anything that life threw at me. Now that the war is done and over with, I'm perfectly happy with my life and I don't really need it anymore. So I want you to have it, to remind you to have courage and be strong… especially for your sister."

"Don't worry, grandpa; I'll _always_ be there for Moira." Peter said proudly.

"Oh, Moira? I have something special for _you_ too, dear." Lydia said before taking something out of her skirt pocket.

"What is it?" Moira asked, walking over to her grandmother.

Lydia showed her something that looked like a deep golden watch on a chain and she put it around her granddaughter's little neck.

"I had this watch since I was a little girl." Lydia explained. "It was all I had left of my mother before she passed. For years, it was me and my brother; it was tough, but I tried my hardest to provide for us. It felt like my mother was watching us from up in Heaven… and this watch kept me going. And then, after what felt like an eternity, I met your grandfather and we've been happy ever since."

"Wow." Moira said as she inspected the old timepiece around her neck. "It's really pretty, grandma. But why are you giving it to me?"

"Because I feel that it's meant for you." Lydia replied. "I don't really need it anymore, but I have a feeling _you_ might need it."

"I love it, grandma. Thanks." Moira said before giving her grandmother a big hug.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Lydia beamed, hugging the little girl back.

Victor and Elsa smiled.

After dinner came bedtime for Peter and Moira. They had just settled into their room and they were starting to get themselves ready for bed.

"Hey, Peter? What do you think is gonna happen during our time here?" Moira asked as she put on her pajamas.

"I don't know." Peter replied as he started to brush his teeth. "But whatever it is, I'm sure it has nothing to do with some ridiculous 'omen' from a school bully."

"…Yeah, I guess you're right." Moira said before grabbing her toothbrush from her backpack. "But anything can happen, right?"

"Maybe, but I'd try not to think about it too much." Peter said before rinsing and spitting.

He had already put on his own pajamas before exiting the bathroom to let Moira go in and brush her own teeth.

"Your turn."

Moira rolled her eyes and headed over to the bathroom. After she brushed her teeth and climbed into bed, her mind was buzzing with all of the possible things that could happen to her or her family while staying in London; she couldn't get Giselle's words out of her head.

' _If Mr. Whiskers dreams about you, it means something big is going to happen.'_

"Something big, something big…" Moira muttered, skimming the pages of the book she was reading before she finally shut her eyes and drifted to sleep.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"God, this house is in _shambles_!" Watson exclaimed. "It looks like the robbers have really done a number on this place."

"You can say that again, Watson. Let's split up." Holmes chuckled as he and his partner cautiously entered the wrecked house.

He made his way to the front room, got down on his knees, and took a magnifying glass out of his coat pocket, trying to find anything that would at least give him a sign of who or what could've been responsible for this damage. Watson hesitantly followed suit, being as careful as possible while also staying vigilant. They've been searching for a good few minutes.

"Find anything, Holmes?" Watson asked.

"Not yet. I can't even tell where…" Holmes replied before finally seeing something. "Wait! Here's something!"

Watson carefully walked over to where he heard his partner's voice was coming from and he saw him on his hands and knees in the kitchen next to the dining room.

"What is it?" Watson asked, trying to get a better view.

"See for yourself, Watson." Holmes said, showing Watson what he had just discovered; it was a set of large, muddy footprints and they were leading to where the laundry room was supposed to be.

"Footprints?" The elder gentleman asked.

"Yes. And judging by the size, shape, and patterns, the robber must've been wearing some form of combat boot. Approximately… a size 12, wide. Just a wild guess, though." Holmes replied before taking a quick picture of a couple of prints; he looked back at Watson. "We'll need to search the other houses to see if we can find more prints like these; I want to see if these past robberies were all committed by the same crook… or _crooks_ , if may be."

"Then there's no time to lose." Watson said before looking at the list in his hands. "The next house on our search is the St. Carolina estate, 2254 Charleton Drive."

"St. Carolina…" Holmes trailed off before stuffing the picture in his pocket and running out the front door. "Very well. Let's go, Watson."

"Right behind you, Holmes."


	4. Three Days Later

Three days went by… and nothing very eventful has happened to Peter, Moira, or their family. But Moira kept her eyes peeled; she knew something big was going to happen to her on this vacation, but what she didn't know was when it would happen or what it would be.

"Hey, Moira. You wanna go to the park? It's only three blocks away." Peter asked, finishing off the rest of his breakfast.

"The park? Oh, sure; sounds fun." Moira said dismissively.

"Are you okay, sis? You seem kinda _off_ today."

"Off? What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. You just don't seem to be… involved lately."

"Uh… I guess I'm just tired. Nothing to worry about. Should we head over to the park now?"

"Sure."

"Be careful out there, kids." Victor called from the kitchen as Peter and Moira headed towards the front door. "Remember, we're in a completely different country with people we don't know. So don't talk to strangers."

"We get it, dad. We understand Stranger Danger." Peter said, reaching out for the doorknob.

"Yeah, we'll be careful. See you guys later." Moira added.

"Have fun." Elsa said as her children walked out the door.

The door shut and Elsa kept looking at it with a concerned look on her face; Lydia noticed and walked over to her daughter

"Don't worry, Elsa." She said reassuringly. "Peter and Moira are clever children, I'm sure they can handle themselves just fine."

"I hope so…" Elsa muttered.

Peter and Moira arrived at the park and they saw that it was hardly any different than the park back at New Holland. There were a bunch of trees, benches, a baseball diamond, and even a playground with slides, monkey bars, sandboxes, and swing sets.

"Not bad." Peter said, nodding his head and smiling. "What should we go on first?"

"Race you to the swings!" Moira yelled before running over to one of the swing sets; Peter smiled and playfully ran after her.

For the next few hours, the two siblings played and had fun without a care in the world… blissfully unaware of the fact that a pair of malicious eyes was watching their every move.

"Whew!" Moira panted. "Hey, Peter? Is there a drinking fountain around here? I'm thirsty."

"Sure, I think there's one over by the bathrooms. Just be careful." Peter said.

"You've been telling me to be careful the past three days. I'll be fine."

Moira then ran off to where she thought was the bathroom and she saw that there was a drinking fountain nestled right next to it. She bent down and started to take a drink but as she did so, she heard heavy footsteps from behind approaching her. When she finished, Moira turned around and looked up to see a large muscular man standing before her.

"Hello there, little lass." The man said; he appeared to speak with a Scottish accent. "What are _you_ doing here all alone?"

Moira said nothing and tried to walk away, but the stranger wouldn't let her pass for some reason.

"Uh, excuse me, sir? You're in my way." Moira said.

"Oh? Am I?"

"Yes, yes you are."

"That's because… you didn't answer my question. What are you doing here by yourself?"

"I'm not alone… _and_ I'm not allowed to talk to strangers. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Moira carefully made her way around the man, but the man roughly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back towards him.

"That wasn't the answer I was looking for, lassie." He said in a grim tone.

Moira's eyes widened in horror; she started to hyperventilate as two more men came up from behind and joined their friend.

"What do you think, boys?" The man asked.

"She must be _American_." The second one said, eying Moira curiously.

"Are you?" The third asked as he took out a knife. "Let's see if she bleeds purple."

Moira couldn't speak; she was too scared to form any kind of sentence. All she could say was a stutter and the three men laughed before a large stick was thrown at one of them.

"Hey! Let go of my sister, you big goons!" Peter's voice yelled.

The three men angrily snarled at the boy. Thinking fast, Moira stepped down on the foot of the man who was holding her as hard as she could and that surprisingly made him let go.

"Run for it!" Peter screamed as the three men began to chase him.

"Get back here, you runt!" One of the three men yelled.

"Over here, Peter!" Moira's voiced called.

Peter turned his head and saw his sister ushering him towards the park gates; he ran towards it.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Holmes and Watson sat around a small table in an empty coffee shop, looking over the evidence they had collected over the past three days.

"Twelve homes robbed; sixty-eight innocent people taken in total. This doesn't make any sense, Holmes." Watson said, looking over the list of missing people. "What do all of these people have in common? Who has taken them? And why would someone go through all of this trouble?"

"Those are _very_ good questions, Watson." Holmes said, taking a sip of tea from his cup. "For which I don't have the answers for, at least not yet. But just like you, I have _plenty_ of other questions… and that's a start. But these crimes MUST be connected somehow; the same boot prints were all found in every single one of these crime scenes. It _can't_ be a coincidence."

"There must be something we're doing wrong. Something we're missing." Watson pondered as he took a bite from his cream cheese bagel.

"Yes, there must be… But what?"

"Is there anything else I can get for you gentlemen?" A young woman in a green apron asked.

"Oh, no thank you… miss Tillie." Holmes said, reading the girl's name tag pinned to her shirt.

"Okay, I'll be right back here if you need anything." The girl said before walking away and disappearing into the kitchen.

When the girl was gone, Holmes looked over all of the notes and clues he had collected. He furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes as he scratched the side of his head.

'What am I missing? Come on, Shamus; think, think, think…' He asked himself before noticing something off in a picture sitting on the table.

He picked up the photograph and inspected it carefully; they were all the door handles from the houses that were robbed. His eyes widened as he looked at the other pictures he and Watson had taken.

"What is it, Holmes? It looks like you've just had an epiphany." Watson exclaimed.

"Indeed I have, Watson. Notice the door handles in these photographs?" Holmes said, showing his partner a handful of pictures.

"They… they're, um…" Watson said, trying to figure out where Holmes was going with this.

"The locks on the doors; it appears as though a powerful acid was squirted into each lock, melting it quickly." Holmes explained. "No brute force was used to open _any_ of these doors. And there was hardly any broken glass on the floors, the tell-tale sign of a break-in; so no broken windows or shattered glass valuables either. And these footprints from each crime scene are exactly the same size and shape: size 12, wide… No one I know of has a foot THAT big."

"So what are you saying?"

"The footprints are false; it's all a trick. The thief is trying to play us for fools, and I am NO fool. I'm afraid we have a scientific mind at work here, Watson."

"You don't mean…"

"I do. There is only _one_ person in London who is brilliant enough and _evil_ enough to pull off a diabolical scheme such as this. The Napoleon of crime: Moriarty."

"As in Professor Nigel Moriarty?"

"The very same."

"But don't you recall our _last_ debacle with him? When Inspector LeStrade showed up to take him to prison, he already got away. And no one has seen him or heard from him since; it's as if he just _vanished_ into thin air, without a trace."

"Ugh, how could I forget? That was certainly a low point in my career. But it _must_ be Moriarty; I can feel it deep in my gut, and you know perfectly well that my gut is hardly _ever_ wrong. No one else in the city is as clever or tactical as he."

"But Moriarty _always_ left us a clue: his calling card. And we haven't found one in _any_ of these houses."

"Yes, you're right. Unless…"

Holmes lifted his cup and he was about to take another sip of his tea when another thought popped into his head.

"Watson, do you still have that map LeStrade gave us?" He asked.

"Right here." Watson said as he took the map out of his coat pocket and put it into Holmes's open hand so his partner could take a closer look. "What are you looking for now?"

"This!" Holmes exclaimed, pointing a finger to a spot on the map that sat in between two previously robbed abodes. "Watson, is there anyone who lives in this house right here? 1313 Raven Road?"

"Yes." Watson explained as he looked at the map. "I believe that is the home of an elderly couple named Van Helsing, Jonathon and Lydia."

"Van Helsing… Why does that sound familiar?"

That was when Holmes took a permanent marker and marked the spot in the map; he and Watson saw a large 'M'.

"It _is_ Moriarty!" Watson exclaimed, standing from his chair.

"Precisely. He _has_ left us his calling card! In a brilliant and _unusual_ way, I might add." Holmes said before taking out his wallet and leaving a few pound notes on the table for the waitress to take; he stood from his own chair and headed towards the door. "Hurry, Watson! To Raven Road! The Van Helsing's are in terrible danger!"

The two men ran out the door and into the rain.


	5. Finding a Crime Scene

Peter and Moira were running down the sidewalk as fast as they could away from the park; they were being chased by those three men who tried to attack Moira. When they thought they were far enough, the two siblings finally stopped and hid behind a wall.

"Do you… you think we lost them?" Moira asked, gasping and wheezing for air.

Peter hesitantly glanced over to see if the three men were still following them and he was relieved to see that they're gone.

"They're gone." He breathed. "Who the heck were those guys?! And what did they want with _us_?"

"How should I know?" Moira said, shrugging her shoulders. "But _that_ was pretty crazy, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess so… But it looks like Giselle's so-called 'prediction' already came true."

"What?"

"You heard me. I know you've been expecting something to happen for these three days and now, something _did_ happen. Now you can stop obsessing over it. End of story."

"I'm not obsessing over some stupid omen from some random cat box! I was trying to _avoid_ it! I don't have time for nonsense!"

"Nonsense?! No, you just don't have time for _me_! I hardly spent _any_ time with you, even at the park!"

"All _you've_ been doing was looking over my shoulder like a helicopter nanny! What kind of brother does that?!"

"Well, what do you care about more: this omen or your family?"

"You're being ridiculous!"

"That's not an answer!"

"Ugh, apparently this omen can't wait and _you_ can!"

Peter stared at his eight year old sister, shocked and hurt. He felt his heart cracking as she glared up at him. A large black van suddenly drove by quick as lightning and it splashed the both of them in muddy rain water. They both grimaced.

"Aww, great. Let's get back to the house and dry off. Hopefully, mom and dad will help us sort this whole thing out." Peter grumbled before going down the sidewalk back to his grandparents' house; Moira said nothing and reluctantly followed him.

When the duo made it back to the house however, they were shocked and horrified to see that one of the front windows was smashed.

"Peter, look at this!" Moira exclaimed as she inspected the lock on the front door. "The lock melted!"

"How did it do that? It's not _that_ hot out, is it?" Peter questioned before gently pushing the door open.

The siblings couldn't believe their eyes; the house was a total mess and no living soul was in sight. They gasped.

"Daddy!" Moira cried, running into the house.

"Mom!" Peter called, running after here.

"Grandma!"

"Grandpa!"

"Anyone?!"

No answer responded to them.

"This place is completely dead, no answer." Peter muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No one's here!" Moira exclaimed, nervously looking around. "First, three guys tried to attack us, then we were chased out of the park by them, and now THIS?! This is bad, like REALLY BAD!"

"Okay, calm down. Don't panic. I'm sure there's a logical explanation." Peter said, trying not to lose his cool around his sister. "Maybe… maybe mom and grandma tore up the house looking for a coupon and then went shopping."

Moira looked over at the garage and saw that the two cars were still parked in the driveway.

"Then why is grandma and grandpa's car still sitting the driveway?!" She questioned.

"Uh… they walked?"

"Don't be so naïve, Peter. No one else in the right mind would be out in _that_ rain without a coat or an umbrella. Something is definitely wrong… and _we're_ gonna find out what it is."

"Us?"

"Yeah, _us_. I've read enough Sabrina Drake books to recognize a crime scene when I see one and this has burglary AND kidnapping written all over it."

"Well what do _you_ suggest we do, Detective Frankenstein?"

"What we _need_ to do is split up and search each room of the house. For all we know, someone might still be here waiting for us. We also need to see if anything of value was taken, broken, or left untouched. Oh here, we can use these to communicate."

Moira handed her brother a walk-e talk-e and she kept the other one for herself before grabbing a fire poker from the hearth and a wooden baseball bat. She gave her brother the poker while she kept the bat.

"We're gonna need these too, just in case." Moira said.

Peter stared at his little sister in disbelief; he hadn't expected her to step up like this.

"O… okay, good plan." He said, looking at the poker nervously. "Why don't I stay down here while you check the second floor? That way, we could cover more ground."

"Good idea. And be sure to radio me if you find anything." Moira said before running up the stairs; Peter looked up at the stairs before heading off in his own direction.

Outside, Shamus Holmes and Dr. Watson arrived at the house and they saw the door wide open.

"We're too late." Holmes said as he approached the door, but then he spotted something on the porch.

"What is it, Holmes?" Watson asked as his partner knelt down to get a closer look at what caught his eye.

"Footprints, Watson." Holmes replied, ushering the doctor to take a look as well.

"Let me guess: size 12, wide?"

"Not even close. _These_ footprints are far too _small_ … and they appear to be _fresh_. One pair of prints is most likely from a sneaker or tennis shoe for boys and the other pair is from some kind of dress shoe for young girls. Someone else has come before us."

"…and maybe they're still here!"

"Exactly! But there's only one way to find out."

Inside the house, Peter and Moira were still searching; Peter was in the kitchen and living room while Moira started looking in the master bedroom.

"Have you found anything yet?" Peter asked through his walk-e talk-e.

"No, not yet. You?" Moira asked through her own walk-e talk-e.

"Nothing. But I have noticed that grandpa's cabinet of war medals is opened _and_ empty."

"You mean they were stolen? _All_ of them?"

"Probably."

"Wait, now that you mention it, I just found grandma's jewelry box and _that's_ empty, too. Every bit of jewelry she owns is GONE."

"Oh no. Okay, now I'm starting to…"

"Hello! Is anyone in here?" An unfamiliar voice called out; Peter and Moira froze.

"Oh my gosh, did you hear that?" Moira said in a terrified whisper.

"How could I NOT?" Peter replied in the same tone. "I'm gonna go see who it is."

"Be careful."

Peter snuck over and slowly peeked his head out from behind a wall; he saw two men he didn't recognize standing in the doorway, it was Shamus Holmes and Dr. Watson. When Holmes turned his head towards him, Peter quickly ducked away and hurriedly looked for a place to hide.

"There are two guys at the front door and they look awfully suspicious. I don't know who they are or what they're doing here and why, but it can't be for anything good." He whispered. "So stay where you are."

"I'll try, but I need to keep looking for clues and so should you." Moira whispered back before heading into the master bedroom.

"Do you hear that, Watson?" Holmes whispered, hearing the footsteps above him.

"Hear what?" Watson asked.

"Very dainty footsteps, coming from the second floor."

The two men froze when they heard a door slam shut; it was coming from the kitchen.

"Someone else is here, Holmes." Watson replied.

"And it's likely that there's more than _one_ intruder. We need to split up."

"Split up? Oh, this is definitely the part of the horror movie where the sidekick gets it."

"How many times have I told you that you are _not_ a sidekick? We're equals. Look, why don't you go upstairs while _I_ stay down here?"

"If you think it'd be best."

Holmes stayed on the first floor while his partner made his way up. Holmes slowly made his way to where he thought the slam had come from, the kitchen. He adjusted his scarf and looked around with narrowed eyes.

"If there's anyone in here, just look out. I won't hurt you." He called out, keeping his cool.

The kitchen was just as messy as the rest of the house; pots and pans were scattered on the floor, a few broken plates and cups were strewn about, and some red and yellow substance (most likely ketchup and mustard) stained the windows and countertop.

"Quite a struggle went on in here." He said to himself before he noticed more muddy prints on the floor; he knelt down for a closer look. "More footprints… from the same sneaker."

He then heard a creaking sound. Holmes slowly turned around to see the door to the pantry shut… but he didn't see Peter hiding inside. He could faintly hear breathing coming from the other side of the door.

'I am so dead.' Peter thought, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

Holmes slyly smirked in the direction of the pantry.

'Hiding in the pantry? How foolishly naïve.' He thought, shaking his head and furrowing his brow.

"Hello? Is anybody up here?" Watson called out as he cautiously walked through the second floor hallway.

Moira was watching him from behind the master bedroom door. When he turned her way, she quickly ran out of sight. Watson went towards the door and looked into the room to see no one there, but he knew he heard something so he decided to search anyway.

"Are you hiding? I'm coming." He nervously called.

What Watson failed to notice was a pair of anxious eyes watching him from underneath the bed; it was Moira.

'Good thing nobody looks under the bed.' She thought before two feet stopped right in front of her face; she froze.

"Is anyone here? Come out, come out wherever you are." Holmes taunted. "Hmmm, no one's here. Perhaps they're hiding outside…"

When Peter heard the sound of footsteps walking away, he breathed a sigh of relief before he slowly opened the pantry door to take a tiny peek.

"Aha!" Holmes yelled, jumping out from behind the counter.

Peter screamed and tried to attack Holmes with his fire poker, but Holmes quickly dodged it, snatched the poker out of the boy's hands, and grabbed him by the shoulders. Peter kicked and screamed, struggling to get himself free from Holmes's surprisingly strong grasp.

"Hey! What are you doing?! Let me go!" He yelled.

"Ugh, will you hold still?!" Holmes demanded as he dragged his captive back to the front door.

"Hey, help! Help me!"

"Peter?" Moira said before two hands grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out from under the bed; she screamed as Watson lifted her up off the floor and threw her over his shoulder.

"What are you doing, you creep?! Put me down!" Moira cried, trying to get herself free.

"You are coming with me." Watson said as he tried to ignore the tiny fists pounding on his back.

Holmes and Watson met up in the living room and they each plopped their captives down onto the sofa. The four of them stared at each other with wide eyes; Holmes certainly wasn't expecting to find children here.


	6. Meeting Holmes and Watson

"…They're only _children_." Watson said.

"Yes, I can see _that_. Who are you and what are you two doing here? This is an active crime scene." Holmes inquired as he lowered his head down to look the young duo in the eye.

"No. Who are _you_ and what are _you_ two doing here? This is private property." Moira snapped as she pushed Holmes away.

"Yeah, our grandparents do NOT appreciate trespassers." Peter retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Your _grandparents_? You're related to Jonathon and Lydia Van Helsing?" Watson asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah. We're supposed to be here on vacation with our mommy and daddy, who _also_ happen to be missing." Moira answered.

"Your parents? …You two are American?" Holmes asked.

"So what if we are?" Peter asked.

"Hold on, where were you when this crime was committed?" Watson asked.

Peter and Moira opened their mouths to speak, only to be stopped by Holmes letting out an annoyed sigh.

"Is it not obvious? They were having a siblings' quarrel." He explained. "See how they're facing away from each other? They're angry with one another; about what, I don't know. Most likely about something small, insignificant, and petty. And judging by their mud-coated clothes and wet hair, they were just out in the rain. And…"

"Whoa, hey!" Moira cried as Holmes grabbed her foot and examined it.

"…the fresh mud staining their shoes indicates that _they_ are the owners of the smaller prints we've discovered on the porch AND they've just returned from the local park which is three blocks away from this house because of the visible blades of grass stuck between the shoe patterns. And the way that they were hiding from us with little radios and weapons in hand, they were searching the house for any form of threat." He let go of the little girl's foot.

"…How did you know all that? You speak as if you were just there." Peter said with a confused look.

"Never mind that. Watson, we need to _properly_ search the house, without any distractions. Look in the dining room and kitchen while I check the living room." Holmes said to his partner before taking another look around the house. "If that fiend really is behind this, then he will have left his calling card."

"Calling card?" Moira asked aloud, looking at Peter who gave her a confused shrug.

"Yes. It's the size of a normal playing card, it's royal blue, and there's a large golden 'M' printed on it." Watson explained, not turning around to look at the children.

"What are you doing? Don't tell them that." Holmes hissed through gritted teeth.

"You mean… like this?"

Moira stood up from the sofa and held up a card that fit the doctor's description perfectly. Holmes turned his head and gasped in shock the moment he saw the card.

He quickly strode over to the little girl. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it in the master bedroom. It was taped to the mirror on my grandma's dresser." Moira replied.

"…Let me see that."

She was about to give the card to him when Peter stood and placed a hand in front of her, blocking her way from Holmes or as if protecting his little sister from this mysterious stranger.

"Tell us what it is first." He said, furrowing his brow suspiciously.

"…It's a clue." Holmes replied, sounding slightly peeved. "It will lead us to our next destination. And if you ever want to see your family again, you will behave and hand it over."

He held out his hand and wagged his fingers at the little girl, nonverbally demanding her to give him the card. Moira looked at Peter who had an uneasy look on his face; he shrugged at her. She looked at the card in her hand, then at the two men; she got an idea.

"Okay, I'll give it to you." She said.

Watson smiled and approached the two children. "Ah, there's a good girl. Glad to see someone here is listening to reason."

"Hold it." Holmes said as he put his arm in front of his partner to stop him.

"I'll give it to you… on one condition." Moira said, giving the card to her brother.

Watson's expression changed from satisfied to surprised when he looked at his partner who removed his arm and shook his head at him.

"I knew it; there's _always_ a catch… What do you want? A puppy, a kitten?" Holmes asked, folding his arms and looking back at the little girl.

"No. If I give you this card…" Moira began in a sly tone. "…you and your friend have to allow me and my brother to come along on this investigation AND allow us to help you look for more clues."

"What?" Peter and Watson asked.

"WHAT?!" Holmes exclaimed. "Are you out of your mind, child? Isn't there anything else you want?"

"Either you let us tag along or no deal." Moira said, turning her back to the two detectives who were left in shock; neither Holmes nor Watson had expected this young stranger to act so precocious and cunning, especially for a child at her age.

"Uh, could you excuse us for a minute, gentlemen?" Peter nervously chuckled before pulling Moira to the side.

"What are you doing?" Moira asked in a whisper.

"Moira, are you crazy?!" Peter quietly screamed. "You can't make a deal like that! These guys just broke into grandma and grandpa's house and manhandled and questioned us! I don't trust them and neither should you. Who knows what they're really up to?"

"Ugh! I know the Stranger Danger rules, Peter, but it looks like these guys are all we've got right now." Moira replied. "Besides, we could really use a friend or two out here. And it looks like they have a pretty good idea of what they're doing."

"Friends? These guys are _so_ much _older_ than us! Probably the same age as mom and dad."

"So what?! Age is just a number!"

"No, it's not!"

Holmes and Watson looked at the two children whispering amongst themselves, wondering what they might be talking about. Then Holmes spotted the card in Peter's hand; thinking fast, he reached out and snatched the card out of the boy's hand.

"Wha—H-hey!" Peter cried.

"What are you doing?! Give that back!" Moira yelled, trying to grab the card from Holmes, who ignored her.

"Hmmm, the letter 'Z'… with a slight crack in its lower leg." Holmes said, inspecting the card; there was a photograph of the letter 'Z' taped to the back of it. "Where have I seen this particular 'Z' before?"

Holmes gripped his forehead and shut his eyes as if lost in thought or his mind had gone off into the clouds. Peter and Moira stared uncomfortably at the detective for a minute or two.

"Uh… he does know that we can't see what he's thinking, right?" Peter asked, glancing at Watson.

"Hush, he's concentrating." Watson replied.

"Concentrating on _what_?" Moira asked.

Before Watson could answer however, Holmes suddenly snapped back to reality and triumphantly announced, "Aha, I've got it! To Chinatown, Watson! The game is afoot!"

Holmes placed the card into his coat pocket and headed towards the door with Watson right behind him, only to be stopped by Peter and Moira. The two of them blocked the doorway and glared up at the men before them.

"What are you doing?!" Watson exclaimed.

"You're not going anywhere! Tell us what you know!" Peter said.

"Ugh, we don't have time for this! Would you two please step aside?" Holmes demanded.

"Not until you tell us what's going on! Besides, we had a deal!" Moira reminded him.

"Ah, ah, ah; no, we didn't. _You_ never gave me the card; _I_ simply took it from your brother while you were speaking amongst yourselves. So technically, there was no deal to agree to." Holmes retorted before hearing something else.

"That's not fair! You can't just—" Moira started before Holmes shushed her. "Hey, did you just shush me?!"

He shushed her again.

"Okay, now that is just ru—"

"Quiet! I heard something." Holmes hissed, covering Moira's mouth with his hand; Peter was about to open his mouth to speak when he heard it.

The group of four froze when they all heard the back door slowly open, then close. Holmes's eyes widened when he saw three large shadows slowly approaching the front room.

"Oh no. They're coming for us…" Watson whispered.

"Say what now?" Peter asked with wide eyes.

"Ugh, perfect. And now we need to run, thanks to these meddlesome, immature Yanks." Holmes said before grabbing Moira's forearm and running out the door, pulling her along with him; Watson and Peter quickly ran out after them.

"Hey, why are we running? What's going on _now_?" Moira asked as Holmes kept a tight grip on her arm.

"I'll explain later. For now, just keep going!" Holmes replied as he continued to run.

Moira and Peter had no idea who or what they were trying to get away from, but they knew it couldn't be good and they didn't want to get on Holmes's bad side so they kept running.

"We need to throw them off of our trail!" Watson said.

Moira then spotted two motor bikes sitting on the curb ahead of them; she pointed a finger at them and said, "Hey, what about those motorcycles?"

"Good idea! We can use them to make a quicker escape!" Watson replied.

They all ran over to the bikes and got on as fast as they could; luckily the owners of the bikes had left their keys in the ignition.

"Wait, what if we get in trouble?! Aren't we _technically_ stealing these bikes?" Peter questioned, climbing onto the bike behind Watson.

"We're _commandeering_ these motorbikes, young man. Besides, no one is using them." Holmes said as he lifted Moira off of the ground and sat her down behind him. "And don't worry, leave everything to us."

"They're catching up!" Moira said, pointing a finger at their pursuers; she recognized them as the three same men who chased her and Peter out of the park before.

Holmes, Watson, Peter and Moira each put on a helmet; Holmes and Watson started the bikes and with that, they sped away from the sidewalk and down the road at top speed just as the three men almost reached them.

"Oh, those brats got away." One man said.

"I know. And Holmes and Watson are protecting them." Another man added.

"Don't worry; we'll get them, somehow." The third man replied, glaring at the motor bikes disappearing into the distance.

"Whoa! You guys are AWESOME!" Peter exclaimed.

"Thank you!" Watson answered.

"Hey, I thought you said you _didn't_ trust these guys!" Moira called smugly.

"There's no time for 'chit-chat', as you would say. We need to find somewhere safe!" Holmes said, scanning the area for a place to turn.

"That way, turn right!" Peter said, pointing his finger at a dirt road to the right; Holmes made a hard right turn for it with Watson following suit.

They rode down the foggy dirt roads until they came to a tiny abandoned churchyard. The group of four leapt off of the bikes and ran straight into the church, shutting the doors behind them. They were all breathing heavily.

"That was a close one." Watson panted.

"You okay?" Peter asked his sister.

"Uh-huh. Whew." She said before turning her head to look up at Holmes with a smug look on her face. "You said something about 'meddlesome, immature Yanks'?"

"Well, I still… stand by that assessment. But I… must admit, you two _are_ rather resourceful, especially for your young age." Holmes admitted.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Moira said; Peter nodded.

"You _should_. He _rarely_ gives them to strangers." Watson said.

"Now, um… what did you say your names were?" Holmes asked.

"We didn't." Peter said huffily. "I'm Peter."

"And I'm his sister, Moira." Moira added.

"Peter and Moira… interesting names for American youths." Holmes said.

"And you are…?" Moira inquired.

"Oh, yes of course. _I_ am Shamus Holmes and this is my friend and partner in crime-solving, Dr. Joseph Watson." Holmes introduced himself and Watson.

"How do you do." Watson greeted.

"Hello." Peter said.

'Crime-solving? Are they… who I think they are?'

A thought suddenly popped into Moira's head; she asked, "Uh, this is probably gonna sound silly but… are you guys _real detectives_?"

"London's finest, my dear." Holmes answered proudly. "Though _I_ am what others would consider a _consulting_ detective, the first and _only_ one of my kind."

Watson shook his head and smirked. The little girl's eyes widened; she had always wanted to meet real live detectives and until now, she thought she never would.

"Um… is she okay?" Watson asked, facing Peter.

"Oh yeah, she's fine. She's just always wanted to meet detectives in real life and not just in her dreams." Peter replied; he gently shook her shoulder to snap her back to reality.

"…Never mind that. This way, Watson; we need to hurry." Holmes said, heading towards the door; Moira quickly stepped in front of him.

"Hold up, hold up! You're not going anywhere, mister." She said, staring daggers up at him. "Not until you let me and Peter join you and Dr. Watson."

"Child, you can't be serious about this!" Holmes said in exasperation; her glare didn't falter. "Watson and I are _investigators_ , not _nannies_! We cannot be the ones to look after you!"

"Well, what other choice do you have?" Moira asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"She's right, you know. There's nowhere else for the two of us to go." Peter added. "Besides, we can be a _real_ asset to the team."

"Oh really? How so?" Holmes asked; he didn't believe a word of what the two children were saying.

"I'm pretty handy with tools." Peter said.

"And _I've_ read more mystery stories than you can probably even count on your hands." Moira added; Holmes sighed in frustration.

"You can read every book and magazine about music in the world, but that does _not_ make you a professional cellist or even a rock star. You can say whatever you like, but my answer is still 'NO'. You're not coming with us and that's _final_!" He said sternly. "And there's nothing either of you can say or do that will change my mind."

Moira looked over at Peter who gave her a somewhat nod of approval; she nodded back.

"What?" Watson asked.

"Mr. Holmes? I think you'd better go back on your word and let me and my sister come along on this case or else." Peter said slyly, walking over to Holmes.

"Or else _what_?" Holmes asked, looking at Peter.

"Or else we'll have to break out the secret weapon."

The two siblings smirked and nodded at each other again; Holmes quickly understood what they were going to do.

"I don't like where this is going." He muttered.

"Oh, you know _exactly_ where this is going." Moira said.

"No, don't. Please, no."

"I'm gonna do it."

"Please, don't do this."

"I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna do it."

"No, no, no, no. Don't you dare, don't you DARE!"

"I'm gonna do it."

"No, I swear! Please, don't!"

"I'm gonna do it! I'll do it!"

"I pray!"

"PLEEEEEEEEASE?"

It was then that Moira made the saddest, most innocent looking face she could muster; Peter smirked and chuckled as Watson and Holmes attempted to shield their eyes.

"You might as well give in, gentlemen." He said slyly.

"Shield your eyes, Watson! It's a trick!" Holmes exclaimed.

"Save your breath; _no one_ can resist those eyes. I know, people tried."

This standoff lasted a good minute or two until finally, Holmes couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, okay, okay FINE! I give up, you win! You two can come! AND you can help us look for clues! Just PLEASE tell your sister to turn off those puppy-dog eyes _this instant_! PLEASE, I beg you! Make it stop!" He screamed in defeat.

"What?!" Watson cried out.

"Yes! Whoo!" Moira exclaimed as her eyes reverted back to normal; she looked at Peter. "Nice call; works every time."

Watson and Holmes stared at the two children with wide eyes and looks of shock on their faces; they _really_ underestimated these kids.

"What. Just. Happened?" Watson asked.

"She broke me. An eight year old American girl _broke_ me." Holmes said, sounding very disappointed in himself; he ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh.

"Okay. Now that that's settled _and_ now that we're on the team, how about one of you tells us what's going on? Starting with this?" Peter asked, taking the card with the 'M' from Watson.

"Of course; you have a right to know. The 'M' stands for Moriarty, Holmes's archenemy as well as the _greatest_ criminal mastermind in all of London." Watson explained as Peter and Moira listened intently. "Some men are just born evil and Professor Nigel Moriarty was the most evil of them all. For years, Moriarty would plan and execute the nastiest, the most sinister, and sometimes the most _unsolvable_ crimes and cases ever committed by mankind, bringing London to its knees… until he met his match in Shamus Holmes. When he and I solved one of Moriarty's heinous crimes about fourteen years back, Moriarty was both shocked and impressed now that he had a worthy opponent… and beating Shamus became his obsession. So he began to play his terrible game. This professor was very crafty, just as intelligent and clever as Holmes; Moriarty would plan everything down to the smallest little detail, just to be sure every part of every single one of his plans were fool proof. And we believe that _he_ is the one behind the recent burglaries and kidnappings around the city; this card is all the proof we need."

"Burglaries?!" Peter asked.

"Kidnappings?!" Moira added.

"Yes." Watson answered before continuing. "We don't know why Moriarty has targeted _your_ family or any of these other people specifically, but we _do_ know that it's for something truly diabolical. The last time Holmes and I faced Moriarty together was at the London National Gallery; Moriarty had planned on stealing every painting he could get his hands on and selling them to the highest bidder on the black market. But luckily, we stopped him just in time. When we caught him, the Inspector had come to arrest him… but Moriarty already got away. That was several months ago."

"So… what kinda game does this Moriarty guy play, exactly?" Peter asked.

"You see, he would carry out a scheme mostly a robbery; he would leave a trail of clues that would lead to his location for me and Holmes to find and challenge us to a battle of wits. We'll need to find him within the next twenty-four hours or so."

"But what happens if you _don't_ find him before your time is up?" Moira asked.

"…I don't know. Holmes and I have always beaten Moriarty before then. But this is different from the other times; Moriarty has _never_ done a mass kidnapping like this before and we can only assume that if we don't find him AND the missing citizens by midnight tomorrow, then… he would most likely _kill_ them all if he doesn't get what he wants."

"What?!" The siblings cried.

"This guy gonna _kill_ our family?! He's insane!" Peter gasped.

"How do we stop him?!" Moira asked.

"We play his game." Holmes answered as he opened the church doors. "For now, we follow the trail of clues and we'll find him and his captives before the twenty-four hours are up. Now let's go. We need to head over to Chinatown; that's where the first clue is leading us. And now that you're officially on the team, you, Peter and Moira, are going to help us in any way you can… whether you like it or not."

Peter and Moira looked at each other with wide eyes; this simple vacation just got a little more intense.


	7. In Chinatown

By the time the group of four had arrived, the sky was already dark. Holmes and Watson were awed by the sight before them, but Peter and Moira were another story. Their eyes grew larger with every second of what they witnessed.

A painted metal gate with a green roof decorated with fire-breathing dragons rose above them. Strings of Chinese and British flags crisscrossed the brick row houses and buildings that lined the street on both sides. The Chinese restaurants served the most delicious foods to their hungry customers. Strings of glowing Chinese paper lanterns lined the street beautifully. A few Chinese acrobats performed daring and incredible tricks on the street, impressing the crowds of onlookers. A few window shops displayed alluring Chinese art, fashion, and cute toys.

"Whoa! THIS is Chinatown?" Peter asked in awe.

"Yes." Watson answered, nodding his head.

"It's so pretty here." Moira commented.

"I suppose it is, but we're _not_ here to play tourist." Holmes said, taking the little girl by the hand and leading her over to the sidewalk and into a nearby alleyway. "We'll need to go undercover."

"Undercover? Where are we going?" Peter asked.

"To Madame Zhen's South Shore Grill and Gift Shoppe, right across the street." Holmes replied before spotting an old box; he ran over to it and started to dig through it.

"Um, Holmes? If you recall the last time we were here, it was a bit of a disaster." Watson quietly and nervously reminded his friend.

"Yes, I faintly remember running into a slight casualty or two. But we mustn't focus on that or let fear cloud our minds, Watson. There are no shortcuts in this game." Holmes said, not turning around as he continued to rummage.

"Why not?" Moira asked.

"Because if we do anything that will break the rules of Moriarty's sick game, then… something bad will most _definitely_ happen. So we cannot take any fatal risks; we cannot cheat." Holmes replied, frowning.

Watson, Peter, and Moira nodded. Holmes then tossed a few pieces of old Chinese styled clothing and accessories to the others.

"Mr. Holmes? What are you doing?" Peter asked.

"What are these for?" Moira asked, holding up what looked like a silken coat with a hood.

"We'll need to put these disguises on so we don't get spotted by the restaurant staff." Holmes instructed as he put on a long trench coat with a hood and a surgical mask.

"What's with the surgical mask, Mr. Holmes?" Moira asked as she put on the little happy coat. "You do realize that Kuchisake-Onna is a _Japanese_ legend, not Chinese right?"

Holmes paused; he turned to look at Moira and asked her, "How do you know of the Slit-Mouthed Woman?"

"My friend Shelley Sue told me the legend once." She replied.

"…The surgical mask is for _another_ purpose." Holmes hesitantly replied. "Once we're inside, we'll need to act natural and try not to draw any unwanted attention. The next clue is most likely somewhere in the gift shop, which is right next to the restaurant. So we'll need to be _extra_ careful. Ready? Let's go."

Once everyone was in costume, the group of four ran across the street as quickly and carefully as possible and entered the restaurant. It was a bustling area packed with customers patiently waiting for their dinner and employees rushing around preparing and delivering platters of food.

"Wow, this place smells _amazing_." Peter said as the smell of cooking and spices filled his nose.

"Shush, focus." Moira hissed.

"There, you see? We're blending in perfectly." Holmes whispered.

"Just stay close and we'll be fine." Watson added.

As the group of four maneuvered their way around the crowds waiting for available tables, a small round man had spotted them and rushed off towards the kitchen to report their presence to his boss. A loud gong sounded. An ensemble of waiters and waitresses appeared from the kitchen doors and they surrounded the group.

"Holmes? I'm pretty sure we've been spotted." Watson whispered to the other; Holmes nodded in response.

A pair of waiters stepped aside and an elderly Chinese couple suddenly emerged. Holmes and Watson bowed before them as if they were royalty; Moira and Peter followed suit.

"Stand up, all of you." The man said; the group obeyed.

"Good evening, Madame Zhen. To you as well, Fang." Holmes politely said, trying not to sound too nervous.

The woman glared at Holmes with beady eyes and said to him, "Hello, Shamus Holmes. What brings you and Dr. Watson here this evening? Surely you have not come for dinner."

"We're… here on a case." Holmes replied.

The man, possibly Fang, glanced over to see Peter and Moira huddled together behind Holmes and his eyes widened.

"You bring CHILDREN on a case?" He asked.

Holmes turned around to see his younger companions giving him nervous looks; he turned to Fang with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?" He asked.

"You _never_ bring children on your investigations."

"Well, this time is _different_. Watson and I are helping them find their family… as well as keeping an eye on them both."

Peter and Moira grinned nervously as Holmes glanced over his shoulder at them with a frown in his eyes.

"Oh, I see you received the orchid we sent to apologize for our last encounter." Watson commented, glancing up at a potted orchid sitting on a shelf close by; he was hoping to change the subject.

"Yes, a gracious gift. But that is still _no_ excuse for what you have done." Zhen said bitterly. "The two of you have caused absolute CHAOS the last time you were here! You were chasing my beloved cat all over my restaurant! You nearly ruined my establishment _and_ my reputation!"

"Say what now?" Peter mumbled to Watson.

"I haven't the _slightest_ idea of what you're talking about." Holmes said, attempting to sound innocent.

"You rudely called Zhen a fat, disgusting old prune and then you threatened her and her cat with a pasta strainer." Watson commented before Holmes elbowed him in the ribs.

"I thought we agreed never to speak of that again." He hissed; Moira and Peter snickered under their breath.

"Silence!" Fang yelled.

As the adults continued to argue, Moira glanced around the restaurant and she soon noticed a curtain with a sign written in Chinese taped to it in one corner.

'That must lead to the gift shop.' She thought before she had an idea.

She folded the fan in her hand, dropped it onto the floor, and said, "Whoops, dropped my fan."

She quickly knelt down to grab it; the grownups paid no notice however. As they talked, Moira quietly crawled away from the group and headed towards the curtain. She read the sign; luckily it had an English translation underneath. It read: _"Door broken. Gift Shoppe closed for renovation"_. She frowned, but then she saw a little white cat emerge from under the curtain and trotted over to Zhen. Moira removed the fabric and saw that there was no door; thinking fast, she quickly and quietly zipped into the gift shop without anyone noticing.

"And another thing!" Fang said before noticing that Moira wasn't with them. "Wait, where is that little girl that was just with you?"

"What do you mean?" Watson asked.

"I mean that girl in the black happy coat; she is not here." Fang replied.

Peter looked around and saw that he was right; his little sister was nowhere in sight and he started to panic.

"Uh guys? He's right; Moira's gone." He said nervously; Holmes eyes widened in shock.

"Would you all excuse us for a moment?" He said before pulling Watson and Peter into a huddle; he glared at Peter. "Where is she?!"

"I don't know!" Peter hissed.

"I thought _you_ were supposed to keep an eye on her; you _are_ her older brother."

"I thought _you_ were supposed to know _everything_ , Mr. All-Knowing Detective."

"Don't be ridiculous. If I _did_ know everything, my head would physically be much bigger."

"Enough! Moira must be around here somewhere. And she couldn't have gone _too_ far." Watson said before noticing the curtain. "What if she went into the gift shop while we were talking?"

"She must've; I don't see her anywhere else. I must say, Peter; your little sister is much sneakier than I thought." Holmes said before he thought of a plan. "I know! I'll go and find her while you two create a distraction."

"You want _me_? To distract _these_ guys? How do we do that?" Peter nervously asked before Holmes broke the huddle.

"Oh, the little girl in the black happy coat! Yes! Yes, I'm sure little Moira has simply… wandered off just to find the loo or a drinking fountain. That's all." Holmes lied, facing Zhen and Fang. "She's probably lost, the poor little dear; I'll go look for her right now. Be back in a tick."

Holmes quickly ran off, leaving Watson and Peter alone with Zhen, Fang, and the rest of the restaurant employees and attendees.

"Uh… who here like showtunes?!" Peter exclaimed in a panic.

" _Showtunes_?" Watson hissed.

"Just follow my lead. I saw this in a cartoon once."

Everyone thought that Holmes had made his way over to a restroom but when no one was looking, he quickly made his way to the curtain leading to the gift shop. He looked around, only to find a black happy coat and a fan on the floor at his feet.

'She's still here.' He thought.

"Moira? Moira, where are you?!" He quietly called out.

"Over here!" Moira's voice replied.

Moira poked her head out from behind the counter in one corner of the room; Holmes made his way over to her and glared at her.

"What?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

"Do NOT run off like that again." Holmes said as he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her over the counter.

"Hey, where are Peter and Dr. Watson?"

"They're creating a diversion back in the restaurant."

They suddenly heard loud music coming from outside; Moira and Holmes slowly peeked out from behind the curtain to see Peter and Watson standing on a table, singing and dancing the Macarena with everyone watching. Moira's eyes widened.

"What the what is that…?" She questioned in a whisper.

"…Their idea of a diversion, I believe." Holmes replied before shaking his head and closing the curtain. "Never mind that. We need to focus."

"Yeah, you're right. So what are we supposed to be looking for?" Moira asked as she turned her attention away from the strange sight.

"I'm not sure. But keep your eyes open for anything that looks out of place; that could be the clue we need."

"Out of place, got it."

The pair of them thoroughly scanned and searched the entire shop, trying to find the next clue Moriarty had left for them. As she gazed up, Moira suddenly spotted a cuckoo clock hanging on the wall above the second door on the other end of the store.

"What about that?" She said, pointing up at the clock.

"Good eyes. That shouldn't be here; a clock is a VERY insulting and offensive gift in Chinese culture." Holmes said before running over to it… only to realize that it was too high to reach, even for him. "Oh bother, too high. What to do? Maybe I could climb onto a table or use a footstool, or…"

Holmes suddenly got an idea; he glanced over at Moira.

"Moira, dearie, would you do me a favor… and climb onto my shoulders?" He asked, kneeling before her.

"Wait, what?" She said before realizing what he wanted her to do. "Oh! Okay, I'll do it. Just hold still when I get up there."

And with that, the little girl carefully made her way onto Holmes's broad shoulders and she was so high up that she was face to face with the cuckoo clock.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked.

"You'll need to turn the little key on your right side three times and set the hands to exactly 8:00." Holmes replied, trying to keep his balance.

Moira nodded, turned a little key on the side of the timepiece, and carefully moved the hour hand in a clockwise direction until the clock itself read eight o'clock. The doors suddenly sprang open, momentarily startling her. But instead of a birdie, a paper airplane with an 'M' card taped to one of its wings flew out; Moira quickly reached out and grabbed it.

"I got it!" She said.

"Good job. Whoa!" Holmes said before he stepped down on a stray piece of paper, which caused him to slip and begin to lose his balance.

"Oh no! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Steady, keep steady!" Moira said nervously.

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

"Uh oh."

"Don't tell me; we're about to fall onto something big, fragile, and expensive."

"…Most likely. Brace yourself!"

In the restaurant, as Watson and Peter were still singing, two screams followed by a loud crash were heard; everyone turned and saw that it was coming from the gift shop. Peter looked at Watson nervously.

"Did Mr. Holmes find Moira or did they find the clue?" He asked.

"Knowing Shamus, most likely both." Watson replied before taking Peter by the arm. "Uh, I think it's about time to go before we make another scene."

Peter nodded before he and Watson jumped off of the table and headed towards the door. Back in the gift shop, Moira and Holmes had fallen onto a display of silken scarves, fans, and other accessories. They were very dizzy, but luckily they weren't hurt.

"That could've gone a lot smoother…" Moira said with a straw umbrella on her head.

Holmes removed a silken coat from his face, shook his head, and said as he sat up, "Did you… get the clue?"

"Yep." Moira replied as she held up the paper plane and sat up. "But I have no idea what it means."

"Let me have a look." Holmes said before the little girl gave him the clue; he thoroughly inspected it, trying figure out what it could mean. "Hmmm, a paper plane; how cryptic. Ooh, classic Moriarty."

"Classic? What do you mean 'classic'? Can I have another look at that?" Moira asked before Holmes stopped her.

"Moira, please; you must trust me. My methods may be rather strange and unconventional, but I _will_ find your family. I promise." He told her.

"What is going on in here?!" Zhen's voice screamed as she barged into the shop with her husband and a few burly security guards; Holmes and Moira froze.

"Uh oh…" Moira muttered.

"Causing trouble _again_ , I see?" Fang said.

"Well, at least we found what we were looking for." Holmes whispered.

Moira glanced over to her right and saw Watson and Peter on the other side of the window who were telling them to run for it. She took Holmes's hand in her own as they stood up from the wreckage they made.

"Uh… Thanks so much for having us, but I think it's about time Mr. Holmes and I make like a couple of ghosts and disappear!" She said before running out the second door with Holmes right behind her.

"After them!" Zhen commanded.

"This way! Hurry!" Holmes yelled as he ran to his left.

The group of four ran down the sidewalk with the restaurant employees and the security guards chasing after them. Peter glanced around and noticed a nearby fire escape on the side of one of the buildings.

"Up there!" He said, gesturing towards the fire escape.

They hurriedly climbed up the metal ladders and stairs and once they reached the top, they ran across the rooftops, unsure if they were still being followed. But they soon reached a dead end; they were trapped. Holmes looked down and noticed the top of a large tent at the bottom; he had a crazy idea.

"Follow my lead, everyone. We only have one go at this." He said as he turned around with his back facing the edge.

"Wait, what are we doing?" Moira asked nervously.

Holmes smirked. "Jumping, of course."

And with that, he took a casual step backwards and fell off of the roof.

Everyone gasped in shock and they ran to the ledge to see what has become of the detective. Looking down, they saw that Holmes had safely landed on the tent's roof and slid down to the ground. Everyone else reluctantly imitated his actions; Peter and Moira screamed and shut their eyes as they fell before they too had landed without a scratch.

"Mr. Holmes? Is this sort of thing _normal_ for you and Dr. Watson?" Moira asked.

"It all depends on what you mean by 'normal'. Quick, get onto that bus!" Holmes replied before running towards a bus that was about to drive off in a few minutes.

They all ran onto the bus as fast as they could and seated themselves just as the bus was driving off, leaving the angry couple and their workers behind.

"Have you solved the clue yet, Mr. Holmes? Where are we going next?" Peter asked.

"Patience, Peter. Just hold on." Holmes replied, staring at the clue in his hand.

He carefully unfolded the plane to reveal that it was a London tourist pamphlet.


	8. Going Their Seperate Ways

"This is our stop." Holmes said as he reached up and pulled a cord from the ceiling, signaling the bus to stop.

The group of four exited the bus and ran down the sidewalk as the vehicle departed the bus station. Holmes made a hard right turn and ran towards a large stone building; he and the others suddenly jumped into the bushes so nobody would see them. Holmes peeked his head out and saw that no one was following them; he gave sigh of relief and turned to look back at everybody else.

"Is everyone alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine." Watson replied.

"All good." Peter commented.

"Me too." Moira added before looking up at the building in front of them. "Where are we?"

"That is the Natural History Museum." Holmes replied.

"Of course! _This_ must be where the clue is leading us. Right, Holmes?" Watson deducted.

"Nonsense, Watson. Moriarty would NEVER choose a location as obvious as this." Holmes scoffed. "Remember, this is a battle of _wits_. We'll need to think VERY hard, _all_ of us."

"I guess it would make sense." Moira commented; Holmes turned his head in her direction. "Clues as vague as the one we've just found could mean _one_ thing, and yet it could mean something entirely _different_. There's always a deeper meaning."

"…Couldn't have said it better myself." Holmes said.

"Okay, so what's _your_ plan, Mr. Smarty Pants?" Peter asked the detective.

"Well, if you must know… we're going to the White Rose Concert Hall. I haven't cracked the clue yet, and the music helps me ruminate." Holmes pointed a finger at the opera house a short distance away from the museum.

"Seriously? THAT'S your plan?! Music and thinking?" Peter exclaimed in frustration.

"Yes. Deciphering clues takes time; you must be patient."

"I _have_ been patient! Heck, I've been patient _all day_ and I have a feeling we're not getting any closer to finding mom and dad!"

"Don't be absurd, of course we are. We're just taking a detour."

"I thought you said there were no detours."

"No, I said that there are no _shortcuts_. We can't cheat."

"But we should check out the museum, at least. C'mon, think about it. Didn't you guys beat Moriarty in a museum once?"

"Yes, but _this_ isn't the same museum." Watson commented.

"Okay, whatever. But that paper plane is a tourist pamphlet and there are PLENTY of other pamphlets in a museum like this, so maybe… Wait, are you even listening to me? He's not listening, look at him!"

Peter was right; Holmes wasn't paying any attention to him. His eyes were glazed over as he went off into his imagination. Watson, Moira, and Peter didn't know what he was thinking, but the expression on his face told everyone that whatever he was thinking about must be very strange. Peter had enough of Holmes ignoring him and the boy gave the detective a good old smack in the arm and yelled,

"Snap out of it!"

"…Don't you ever smack me again." Holmes said, glowering at the boy and rubbing his sore arm.

"Well, forget you! Forget the _rules_! And forget the _game_!" Peter yelled. "Good luck with your music and thinking and junk. _I'm_ going to check the museum whether you like it or not! Let's go, sis. We can find our _own_ way around here… Come on, Moira. I said _we're leaving_."

"…Maybe we should just go to the Concert Hall." Moira said as she took a step closer to Holmes.

"What, seriously?! You're choosing this guy over _me_?! A total stranger over your own brother?!" Peter cried in disbelief.

"I'm not choosing anybody. Mr. Holmes knows this Moriarty person and _you_ don't." Moira retorted.

"I thought we were supposed to be a team. Peter and Moira Frankenstein, remember?"

'Did he just say _Frankenstein_?' Holmes thought, looking back at the two children with wide eyes.

"We _are_ a team!" Moira insisted.

"Well, it doesn't feel like it. And it _hasn't_ felt like it since we got here! Are you with me or not?" Peter offered his hand to Moira, hoping she would take it.

Moira glanced at his hand, but she didn't even bother to touch it; she took another step back. " _Please_ don't do this." She made it clear that she was staying with Holmes.

There was a moment of silence.

"I knew it." Peter said heavily. "I knew it! This _is_ all because of that stupid cat box omen and what Giselle said! Ugh, I can't believe it!"

"Cat box omen?" Watson asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Who is Giselle?" Holmes questioned, shrugging his shoulders.

"I told you NO! I'm just trying to be responsible here!" Moira argued

"And you think _I'm_ not? I just want to protect you!"

"Well, I don't need anyone protecting me! I can handle things myself! And, and… and I don't need _you_ , you stubborn, reckless, bullheaded blowhard!"

Peter glowered at his sister.

"Oh yeah? Well, I don't need _you_ , you bossy, annoying, selfish brat!" He yelled before he violently shoved her to the ground, causing her to land on her backside.

Holmes knelt down to help Moira get back onto her feet; Peter gave his sister a hurt look before running off towards the museum.

"N-no, Peter wait! I…" Moira called, but he didn't hear her nor did he care to listen. He was already in the museum before anyone else could stop him.

"Should we go after him?" Watson asked.

"Perhaps only _one_ of us should go…" Holmes replied.

" _I'll_ go." Moira said before she felt someone grab her hand and pull her back.

"No. I doubt he'll want to talk to you right now, considering… what just happened." Holmes said hesitantly.

"Oh. Yeah…" She sighed.

"Don't worry. _I'll_ get him back _and_ I'll talk to him." Watson said to Moira.

"Just be careful, Watson." Holmes said.

"Of course."

And Watson made his way to the museum just as carefully as Peter had done, leaving Moira alone with Holmes. Holmes started to slowly walk away with Moira following close behind, the detective kept his grip on her small hand. The little girl kept quiet, she couldn't stop thinking about what Peter had said to her.

Holmes paused before saying, "You're concerned about your brother."

Moira looked up in surprise. "Is it _that_ obvious?"

"I could tell by your lack of vocals and your current body language… but don't worry. Watson will find him and everything will be okay."

"It's not that. I just… can't stop thinking about what he said. We _are_ supposed to be a team, and I haven't really been listening to him lately…"

"I understand, but you shouldn't be worried. Everyone fights with their siblings sometimes; most siblings just do it more than others… like me and my two older sisters."

"But… that's like the first time _I've_ ever really fought with _Peter_. He and I have always been so close, ever since we were little… I feel horrible. Why did I say I didn't need him?"

Holmes turned, knelt down, looked Moira dead in the eye, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It will get better, I promise." He said. "Just give it some time; you two will work things out, I'm sure you will."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Now pardon me for asking this irrelevant question, but… is your last name truly Frankenstein?"

"Yeah, so what?"

Before Holmes could reply, Moira suddenly heard a car. She turned around and saw a large white van parked at the museum entrance. Holmes's eyes widened when he saw the van.

"Oh no. Hide, quickly." He said before gesturing Moira into the nearby bushes for cover.

"Mr. Holmes, what's going on?" Moira asked as she watched three figures exit the van and go towards the museum.

Holmes's eyes narrowed at the men. "…Trouble."

In the museum, Watson kept himself hidden from the security cameras as well as the night guards that were on duty. He wandered the halls of the museum until he eventually found himself in a section filled with fossils, skeletons of different animals, and dioramas of prehistoric and ancient creatures. When he thought he was alone, he called out in a hushed tone,

"Peter? Peter, where are you?"

"Hey." Peter's voice said from behind which made Watson jump; Peter looked around. "Oh, it's just you. Sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to scare you. But, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be joining Mr. Holmes at the Concert Hall?"

"No, I came to talk to you… about you and your sister." Watson replied.

"…Forget it; there's nothing to talk about."

"Look, I know you're angry with her but this isn't the way to go about it. Moira is worried sick about you."

"Worried? About _me_? Ha!"

"No, really. She was on the verge of tears when you ran off."

"Well, how could _you_ possibly know how I feel? It's like Moira doesn't even care about me anymore!"

"Don't say that, of course she cares about you."

"Well she sure has a funny way of showing it."

"I'm sure you two will patch things up, as they say."

"…Not after how I called her a _brat_. She'll _never_ forgive me for what I said."

"People get into fights all the time. It's not the end of the world."

"But it still happened; it's also our _first_ huge fight. I can't get it outta my head. Ugh, why I said those awful things? I didn't mean them, _none_ of them. I was just so mad and…"

"I understand, Peter; we all say things we don't mean. Holmes and I get into fights sometimes, too."

"Then how are you still working together?"

"The thing about fights is that we argue about the thing that's bothering us and after the fight, we try to fix it."

"But don't friendships end because of a fight?"

"Fights are normal. But I believe some relationships end due to the lack of a fight. If you don't talk it out, it will never be resolved. It's what Holmes and I do."

"Speaking of Mr. Holmes, I don't even know how you put up with him. He seems so annoying."

"Now I admit he can get a little cocky and arrogant at times but despite his flaws and questionable tactics, Shamus is truly a brilliant detective. He and I have been working together since his final year of high school; we've always been there for each other. He listens to me, he follows some of my ideas, and he shows me admiration and respect. Shamus may seem a bit full of himself at first glance, but he truly has a good heart; I've seen him display it _many_ times before."

"You sure about that?"

"Of course. But Peter, you must also know that we _all_ have our good and bad sides; Holmes, your sister… even me and you. Do you understand?"

Peter thought about what Watson was saying and what Moira had told him before this whole mess started; he realized that was being pretty overprotective of her and it wasn't right of him to lash out at her like that.

"You're right." He sighed. "I shouldn't have run off like that, I was just being selfish. I need to go back and make things right between me and Moira."

"That's the spirit." Watson said before pausing. "Wait…"

"What's wrong?" Peter asked before Watson stopped him.

"I hear something." The Doctor whispered; he then noticed three large shadows approaching them and he froze. "We need to hide."

"Why? Whoa!" Peter shouted as Watson grabbed his hand and ran down the hall to find someplace to hide.

Three large men entered the room and looked around for anything suspicious; Peter and Watson were hiding behind a stuffed wooly mammoth.

"What's going on?" Peter asked, trying to get a good view.

"Shush! Stay down, or they'll see us!" Watson hissed as he pulled the boy back down.

"Who?" Peter whispered before the Doctor covered the boy's mouth with his hand.

"Oye, someone's in here…" One man said to his colleagues.

"Maybe it's Holmes and Watson." Another said.

"Perfect. The boss is gonna be VERY pleased if we catch them." The third added.

"We need to get out of here, NOW." Watson whispered to Peter as they tried to sneak away.

Peter then spotted an emergency exit on the other side of the room; he nudged Watson and pointed a finger at it. The doctor nodded and slowly walked towards it with Peter right behind him, staying as quiet and careful as possible. But what they both failed to notice was the yellow wet floor sign that was standing a few feet away. Peter stepped down on the wet spot and his foot slipped, nearly causing him to fall, but Watson caught him just in time. It was then that Peter took a coin out of his pocket and threw it in a different direction to distract their pursuers.

"What was that noise?" The first man asked.

"It came from over there." The second man said as he headed towards the noise; his friends followed.

Peter and Watson smiled as they headed towards the emergency exit but the moment they opened the door, bright red lights started flashing and a loud siren sounded. The two froze in place; the three men surrounded them with sinister looks in their faces.

"Hello, Doctor Watson." They said in unison.

"…Run." Watson and Peter said before they ran off as fast as they could.

"Get them!" The three men screamed before chasing after them.

Back outside, Holmes and Moira could hear the sirens going off from inside the museum.

"Mr. Holmes? What's going on now?" Moira asked nervously.

"Someone set off the museum alarm." Holmes replied.

"You don't think it's Peter and Dr. Watson, do you?"

"It could be, and yet it could also be… Oh no!"

"What is it?"

"Get down or they'll see us!"

They ducked back into the bushes before the museum doors opened and the three men came out… with Peter and Watson in their grip; Moira's eyes widened in shock and horror.

"Peter?!" She gasped.

"And Watson!" Holmes added, flabbergasted.

"Hey, let us go!" Peter demanded as he struggled to get free.

"You'll never get away with this, McChucky's!" Watson yelled.

"Nice try, boys." One man said as he opened the van backdoors.

"Wait, you can't do this!" Peter cried before he and Watson were then violently thrown into the back of the van where their wrists and ankles were bound with strong rope.

One man had quickly put a long piece of duct tape onto Peter's mouth while Watson had a satin handkerchief stuffed into his mouth to keep both of them quiet. And with that, the doors shut, trapping the pair inside the van.

"That oughta do it." The leader said.

"But what about Holmes, Big Dave? He's _still_ out there somewhere." A second man said.

"And that little girl?" The third added.

"Don't worry about them, fellows." The leader, Big Dave, said. "This is just what the boss wanted. Larry, Jerry; let's get going."

The three brothers got into the van and drove away from the museum as fast as they could… leaving Shamus Holmes and Moira behind.

"Watson…" Holmes whispered solemnly.

Moira was horrified and mournful at the same time; she began to cry.

"Peter, no…" She wept, burying her face in her hands.

"Come along, Moira." Holmes said, putting a comforting arm around the girl's shoulder.

Moira wiped her eyes with her sleeve, made her way out of her hiding place, and trailed after Holmes as he was heading towards the Concert Hall.

"We must keep going. All of those people are depending on us…"


	9. Heart to Heart Chat

"Mr. Holmes, are you okay? You're awfully quiet." Moira solemnly commented as she and Holmes wandered through the White Rose Concert Hall.

When no one was around to see, Holmes opened a door and led the little girl into a room that looked down upon a lavish stage where an opera she didn't understand was being held; no one could see them or even hear them from up there.

"This is the darkest day of my career." Holmes replied after a long moment of silence. "I cannot believe that Moriarty would stoop so low… hire the McChucky brothers to—"

"Wait, what?!" Moira exclaimed. " _That's_ what you care about?! Some random guys?!"

"These 'random guys' are not ordinary men. They're—"

"My brother was just _kidnapped_ by them! He's gone, along with Dr. Watson, _your partner_! Why aren't you sad or angry or _anything_?!"

For a moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of shock in the eyes of Shamus, until a cold expression formed on his face.

"Sadness and anger will not help me find or save _anyone_ , let alone the missing people." Holmes replied sternly. "Emotion is the enemy of logic."

"Logic, shmogic!"

"Quiet! You'll get us caught if you keep shouting. You are being difficult."

"Oh, _I'm_ the one being difficult? What about _you_ , huh? When will you stop being so stubborn and full of yourself?"

"When will _you_ finally act responsible and _grow up_?"

"That's _not_ an answer!"

Moira stomped her foot and frowned at the detective. Out of anger, Holmes spun on his heels, grabbed her by the arm, and glared down at her.

"The case can't wait! _You_ can!" He snapped.

Moira's eyes softened as the detective glowered at her; she felt like a knife was just jabbed into her heart. She heard those words before, but she said them to Peter earlier that day. And now, she might never be able to take it back. Holmes let go of her arm before she slowly wandered away from him.

"And just where do you think _you_ are off to?" He asked.

"…I just want to be alone." Moira replied before sitting down in a corner of the room and pulling her knees to her chest.

Holmes rolled his eyes and shook his head in annoyance before he heard the little girl begin to sob and his anger softened. He hadn't meant to make her cry; he was only trying to show her who was in charge.

'She's not really… Is she? No, she's just trying to get under my skin. Why won't this child cooperate and do as she's told like a good little girl _should_? She is so… so difficult.' He thought. 'But, I… I didn't mean…'

He let out a sigh of defeat and reluctantly approached the girl before sitting down beside her, taking off his coat, and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"I said… I want to be _alone_." Moira retorted in between sobs; she scooted further away from him and squeezed her eyes shut.

"…I'm sorry." Holmes said suddenly; Moira's eyes flew open in response. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. I didn't mean to hurt you or make you cry."

"No." She replied. "I'm not crying because what you said was mean… I'm crying because _I_ said the _same thing_ to Peter! What was I thinking? I knew I shouldn't have listened to Giselle and her stupid cat! But I did anyway and _now_ look at me! Running around a huge city thousands of miles away from home with an eccentric stranger looking for my entire missing family! Am I _insane_?!"

"Don't say that."

"Oh, I just wanna go home! I want my mommy and daddy! I want my family!"

She cried even harder. Holmes's eyes softened and he frowned; he had absolutely no idea how to make a helpless crying child feel better, especially since he knew so little about her. So he did the only thing he could think of: pick her up and set her down on to his lap. Moira looked up at Holmes, surprised by this sudden act of tenderness.

"W-w-what are you…?" She began before Holmes stopped her.

"Hush. Everything is going to be alright." He said sympathetically. "I know you're afraid, and who could blame you? … _I_ am too."

"You? _Afraid_?"

"Yes, but that isn't the point. The point is that we cannot let our own fear keep us from doing what we need to do. I know the stress is getting to you, but the city will be in grave danger and you and I are all London has right now. We must be brave and keep our eyes open, or else everything will fall into ruin. Do you understand that, Moira?"

Moira knew this would be a huge responsibility to take on, especially for someone as young as her, but she also knew that she had to be strong or she would never see her family again. She looked back up at Holmes and wiped her eyes.

"…Yeah, I guess I do… And I suppose being a downer or a crybaby doesn't get anyone anywhere. You're right, I'm sorry." She whimpered.

"Don't be." Holmes said, gently petting the girl's head. "…And _I'm_ sorry I yelled. However, you didn't let me finish."

"Finish what?"

"My last sentence. I was _going_ to say I cannot believe that Moriarty would hire the McChucky Brothers to kidnap Watson, in public nonetheless. That would _never_ have happened if it weren't for me."

"Oh… So you _do_ care about Dr. Watson?"

"Of course I do. He's been my partner and closest friend since the beginning and I would do _anything_ to get him back… And I'm guessing _you_ would do the same for your brother."

"Of course. He's like my best friend since I was born. I didn't mean all of that stuff I said to him, you know."

"I know; we _all_ say things we wish we could take back. But after all of this is done and behind us, I know for a fact that you two will reconcile and become the best of friends again, you'll see."

The two sat in the corner together before Moira let out a small yawn; Holmes smirked.

"Sounds like someone is getting tired." He said playfully.

"What? No I'm not. I'm just… just…" Moira retorted before she yawned again.

"You should rest." Holmes said.

"No! I wanna stay up and help you…"

"I know you want to help me, but it won't do any good if you're exhausted. You've had a long and eventful day. And I'm sure it's _way_ past your bedtime back home; a little girl like you needs her sleep. And don't worry; I'll keep an eye on things and protect you if anything happens."

"…Thanks, Mr. Holmes."

"For what?"

"For… letting me talk to you AND for being there for me."

"Anytime."

"Goodnight, Mr. Holmes."

"Goodnight."

And with that, Moira rested her head on the detective's chest, closed her eyes, and she fell fast asleep in his lap. Holmes gave a small smile as he heard her gentle breathing; he looked towards the stage and listened to the beautiful music that was playing outside. He softly sighed.

'Oh, Watson… What have I done?'

0-0-0-0-0-0

In another part of the city, the same white van from the museum was driving down a barren dirt road in the dead of night until it reached the doorway of an old manor. The McChucky Brothers got out of the vehicle, grabbed Peter and Watson, went into the manor, and threw their captives onto the floor.

"Nighty-night, boys. You'll have many more in here." Big Dave said mockingly before shutting the doors, leaving Watson and Peter in complete darkness.

"Well, well, well… Hello, Doctor Watson." A deep voice said mockingly followed by the sound of footsteps.

A hand suddenly reached out and roughly removed the cloth from Watson's mouth. He spat and sputtered before looking up and saying,

"Hello, _Moriarty_."

The lights switched on and a tall, round man with graying brown hair, a huge mustache, and wearing expensive looking clothing was seen standing before Peter and Watson with a sinister smile on his face. This was Professor Nigel Moriarty.

"Long time no see." Watson hissed.

"Indeed." Moriarty said before directing his attention to Peter; he sneered at the boy as he approached him. "And who's your little friend, Joey? I've never seen _him_ before, and I know _everyone_ in this city."

"Stay away from him. He's just a boy."

Moriarty ignored Watson completely as he grabbed the tape around Peter's mouth and brutally ripped it right off of his face, causing Peter to scream in pain and even cry a little. Moriarty cackled cruelly at the boy.

"Ha! What a laugh." He bellowed before kneeling in front of him. "What's _your_ name, son?"

Peter said nothing.

"What, are you deaf? Mute? Dumb? Tell me your name, boy. Come on, spit it out."

And that's just what Peter did; he angrily spat right into Moriarty's eye, which made the professor jump back in surprise and anger.

"Agh, my eye! You will pay for that." He snarled.

"Leave the boy alone, Nigel. Isn't it _me_ you want?" Watson yelled.

"No, not _you_. What I really want is HOLMES. You know where he is, don't you, Joseph?"

"Why should he tell you anything?" Peter hissed.

"Oh, so you _can_ talk." The sinister Professor said, glaring back at Peter. "So you'll tell me who you are?"

"I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"Ugh, a child with an _attitude_. Is there anything more tiresome? Someone get him out of here."

"If you take _him_ away, you'll have to do the same to _me_." Watson retorted.

"Fine. I'll lock you _both_ up until further notice." Moriarty said as he picked Peter up off of the floor and threw him over his shoulder.

Larry and Jerry McChucky grabbed Watson by the arms and dragged him along the stone floor by his heels behind Moriarty. They walked down the halls until they were taken to a room in a far corner of the manor. Peter and Watson's restraints were let loose and they were thrown into the room.

"I'm sure you two will _love_ it in here." Moriarty said as he turned on the lights.

Watson and Peter looked and they saw all of the missing citizens of London… including Victor, Elsa, Jonathon, and Lydia. Peter gasped in shock and joy.

"Mom, dad! Grandpa, grandma!" He yelled as he ran over to them.

"Peter! Oh, my baby boy!" Elsa wept as she hugged her son tight.

"Peter? So that's your name!" Moriarty exclaimed; no one paid attention to him, though.

"Are you okay, dear? Did those goons hurt you?" Lydia asked as she examined her grandson.

"No, no. Don't worry, guys; I'm fine." Peter replied.

"Wait, your sister isn't with you." Jonathon pointed out.

'Sister?' Moriarty thought as he stroked his beard.

"She's not here. Where's your sister? Where is she? Is she okay? Where is Moira?!" Victor asked urgently.

"I-I don't know." Peter stuttered nervously. "She and I got into a fight outside the history museum, we split up, and-and…"

"Oh, a typical quarrel amongst family; how _delightful_. I wish I could stay and watch, but I have important business to attend to." Moriarty said as he headed towards the door. "Sweet dreams, everyone. We'll see you tomorrow. Keep an eye on them, Big Dave; ALL of them."

Moriarty exited the room and the door slammed shut; Peter looked back at his family shamefully.

"I'm so sorry." He said as he tucked his knees into his chest. "I know I was supposed to protect Moira, but I did a pretty _lousy_ job of doing it. Now she's out in London with no clue what to do or where to go; this is all _my_ fault. I'm the _worst_ brother ever."

"Peter, don't say that." Victor said as he comforted his son. "We _all_ make mistakes. But the important thing now is that you're with us. But what we need to do now is find a way out of here and get back to your sister."

"Yes, but we need to do it soon." Watson said as he joined the group. "Moriarty is planning on _killing_ all of us tomorrow night if Holmes and Moira don't find us by then."

"Kill us?!" Lydia cried in terror.

"Hold up, Moira is out there? _My daughter_ is wandering the city of London? _ALL BY HERSELF_?!" Elsa shrieked in fear and anger.

"No, no, no! She's not alone; my partner Shamus is with her. He knows this city like the back of his hand. Trust me, she'll be perfectly safe with him." Watson said reassuringly. "And if I'm not mistaken, they've most likely left the museum and now they're at the…"

"…the White Rose Concert Hall, of course! That's where they must've gone!" Peter concluded.

"Oye, keep it down in there!" Big Dave yelled as he banged on the wood of the door with his fist. "You lot are givin' me a headache with all your jabberin' and I'm not very nice with a headache!"

The room quickly went silent. Peter and Watson looked at each other nervously; they knew they had to think of something soon or everyone in that room will die, including them. But as of right now, they had _no_ idea what to do.


	10. The Festival of Medieval Times

The light of the morning sun flooded through a tiny glass window and into the Concert Hall. Moira remained sound asleep in Holmes's lap with his coat covering her body to keep warm; Holmes was sleeping just as soundly, until the sunlight shined onto his face. He begrudgingly opened his eyes and yawned.

'Not exactly the _best_ night's sleep I've ever had.' He thought before he looked down and saw Moira still sleeping with her head resting on his chest; he was about to nudge her awake when he stopped himself. 'She is… rather _cute_ when she's asleep. I almost don't want to wake her up.'

Holmes's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his wrist watch letting out a series of annoying high-pitched beeps. He pushed a button to make them stop, but Moira stirred at the sounds; she was waking up. He gently shook her shoulder.

"Wake up, Moira." He said in a whisper. "It's time to get up."

Moira yawned, opened her eyes, and looked up to see Holmes's big dark eyes looking down at her. She jumped out of his hold in surprise.

"Oh! Good morning, Mr. Holmes." She said as she quickly stood up.

"You _could_ say it's a good morning, my dear…" Holmes began as he took his coat and put it back on. "…for I've cracked the clue."

"Really? That's great! What does it mean?"

"It means… I think we should leave first before we got spotted by security or the custodians. We can go out through the back and discuss this outside."

Holmes took Moira's hand, walked over to the door, and they carefully made their way through the empty Concert Hall and over to the back exit. When they finally made it out, they went around back to the front and sat down on a nearby bench. Holmes took the pamphlet out of his coat and laid it down on his lap, explaining his deductions.

"This is what I found out." He began, taking out a small pale twig. "I found this little stick taped to the brochure while it was still folded into a plane. Notice the peeling white bark? This stick came from the branch of a common birch tree, which are very amble in Highland Park, one of the most popular parks in the city. And see the list of upcoming events on the brochure? One of them is circled: the Festival of Medieval Times, which is held in Highland Park every spring… and the Festival starts _today_. So if I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am, Moriarty has most likely hidden our next clue somewhere in the park."

Moira then noticed something in one corner of the far right-hand page, it looked like a circle with little markings inside; she squinted her eyes, but it was too small to read. She took a magnifying glass out of the pocket of her dress and took a closer look. She gasped as she saw the roman numerals for 3, 6, 9, and 12; two arrows were pointing at 12.

"A clock!" Moira cried out.

"Come again?" Holmes asked.

"This! This is like a clock! Over here, look!" She exclaimed before she opened the watch around her neck. "See? Two arrows are pointing at the 12, which could mean one of two things; noon and midnight! Maybe Professor Moriarty wants us at the Medieval Times Festival in Highland Park at noon today!"

Holmes's eyes widened at the little girl; he hadn't even noticed that.

"Moira… that is BRILLIANT!" He exclaimed. "I can't believe I _missed_ that! Well done. Wait… Moriarty wants us there by _noon_? What time is it now?"

Moira looked at her watch and said, "It's almost 10:00."

"Oh no! It usually takes a good hour and a half to get to the park from here, minus any awful traffic. We're running out of time! Come on!" Holmes said as he stood up and ran down the sidewalk with Moira following close behind.

"Wait, Mr. Holmes! Slow down! Mr. Holmes, does everyone in London know who you are?" Moira asked as she stopped to catch her breath.

"A little irrelevant to the mission, but yes; almost everyone. Why?"

"Wouldn't it be weird for a strange little girl no one here has ever seen before to be walking around a medieval themed faire with the finest consulting detective in London?"

Holmes paused, realizing that she did make a valid point; it _would_ look odd for people to see him walking around with some young stranger. He didn't want anyone to be suspicious of him or his new companion and he certainly didn't want his reputation tarnished; he looked back at Moira.

"Yes you're right, but fear not." He said. "For I'm not just a master of _deduction_ ; I'm also a master of _disguise_. And _you_ , my dear Moira, are going to help me."

Moira's eyes widened. "Really? I'm _really_ going to help you?"

"Of course you are. That is, if we still have a deal…?" Holmes held out his hand to the little girl, and she shook it vigorously as she grinned.

"Of course we do! Ooh, I've always wanted to go in disguise!"

Holmes chuckled. "I really do admire your enthusiasm, my dear. And luckily, I have the _perfect_ costumes in mind for the _both_ of us."

"Oh? What _do_ you have in mind?"

Holmes smiled. "Moira? How do you feel about… _princesses_?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

At the park, everything was decorated with banners and flags and everyone there was dressed in clothes from Medieval Times.

"Make way, everyone! Make a path! Step aside for Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Fronkenshteen!"

Everyone suddenly moved to the sides as two figures entered the Festival; one was tall and wearing a black gown and headdress with a veil while the other was small and wearing a royal purple dress and a golden tiara. It was Holmes and Moira disguised as a princess and her lady in waiting, both of them wearing fancy looking masks to hide their identities. Moira was struggling not to trip over the skirt of her dress while Holmes was having no trouble.

"Mr. Holmes? How can girls walk in these huge dresses? And where did you even _find_ them?" She whispered.

"Hush, stay in character." Holmes hissed. "And be sure to smile and wave your hand the way I showed you."

"Sorry; I'm still pretty new at this."

"I can tell."

Moira smirked to herself and did as she was told as they continued to walk through the park.

"Tell me again why you're dressed as a lady in waiting and not a knight. Or even a lord, a prince, or a king." The little girl muttered.

"The only suit of armor I could find was far too big, along with other tunics, belts, and capes. And I've dressed as a woman more than once in my career." Holmes casually replied.

"…I don't wanna know."

Holmes suddenly stopped, but Moira looked in a different direction and she bumped right into him.

"Oof! Careful!" He hissed.

"Sorry, sorry!" The girl said sheepishly.

"It's alright. But remember, we need to keep our eyes and ears open as well as not draw any negative attention."

"Got it."

Moira waved her hand and smiled a toothy, slightly nervous grin as she and Holmes continued walking, but he rolled his eyes in annoyance when he glanced over at her.

"Oh dear; that is the LEAST realistic royal wave and smile I have ever seen." He sighed as they sat down on a bench near a fake castle.

"Well sorry, but I've never dressed up like a princess before, let alone _acted_ like one." Moira retorted.

"You haven't? Well, you should've told me that _before_ I took you on as my assistant."

The little girl's eyes widened and she gasped.

"…Am I really your assistant?!" She asked.

"Shhh!" Holmes put a hand up to silence her. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Shh, listen."

Holmes concentrated his hearing on the sounds he heard with one hand to his ear. As birds sang, children laughed, people talked, and music played, he scanned the birch trees until a particular sound caught his ear.

"That sound. That's not a bird; that's the call of the Peruvian Snapping Turtle." He whispered; Moira was confused.

"What? That doesn't make sense. What would a snapping turtle from Peru be doing all the way up here?" She asked.

"That's the thing; this call doesn't sound genuine." Holmes deducted. "It sounds like… like a recording. But where is it…?"

He looked up and saw a tape recorder perched on the branch of another tree.

"Aha! The Peruvian Snapping Turtle is famous for burying its eggs; he must've buried the clue. Somewhere around here, but where…?" Beneath the device in the tree was a spot of dirt buried out of the earth where the clue used to be. "Oh. It's been dug up by…" He scanned the area for the culprit, until his eyes landed on a few familiar creatures, a few that Holmes hoped he would never have to encounter again.

"Oh… Don't move!" He whispered worriedly as he pulled the veil over his face to avoid being seen, even though the creatures were asleep.

Moira looked in that direction; all she saw were three big dogs snoring near another bench, a Doberman, a Rottweiler, and a German Shepherd.

"What's wrong? It's just a few dogs." She said; she was puzzled by Holmes's sudden reprehension.

"You don't understand. Those three BEASTS are no mere dogs." He explained, eying the dogs warily. "Those, my dear, are the hounds owned by the Baskervilles, one of the _richest_ families in the entire city. And in this very park, all THREE of those very hounds _bit_ me… and I still have the scars to prove it."

"Scars? Come on, it can't be that bad."

Holmes pulled down the sleeve of his dress and revealed the huge bite marks on his left shoulder and bicep from those same dogs; Moira's eyes widened in shock and disgust.

"Whoa! That is nasty."

"That's just what the doctor said; he also said I was very lucky to survive the attack. Those things could've very well torn me to pieces or even KILLED me if I wasn't careful. Or if they really wanted to. I'm still rather curious as to why the Baskervilles _haven't_ gone missing." He then noticed something else sitting next to the bench; his eyes widened again.

"What now?"

"Do you know what that is?" Holmes pointed a finger at the stroller parked beside the hounds.

"…A stroller?" Moira answered, not sure if that was the answer he was after.

"Yes. That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"When I last encountered the Baskervilles, I noticed that Mrs. Baskerville had a rather rounded, taut belly; she must've been pregnant."

"Yeah, so?"

"That was nearly _eight_ months ago. They've had a new baby during that time… and it's sleeping right in that stroller. First Chinatown, now these fleabags _and_ that little monstrosity. This is no coincidence."

"This is gonna tricky, huh?"

"Oh yes, and everything else was just peachy."

"I can deal without your sarcasm, thank you very much."

As she inspected the dogs and stroller, Moira's eyes narrowed; she had an idea. She got up from the bench.

"Wait here for me." She said as she made her way over to the dogs.

"Wait, what? Moira, what are you doing? Get back here. Young lady, come back here this instant!" Holmes cried out in a worried whisper.

'She is going to die…'

Holmes watched in terror as Moira snuck over to the bench. She got on all fours and crawled under the bench just behind the dogs, hoping they wouldn't wake up and sniff her out. She noticed that the M card was wrapped around a squeaky toy which was under the paw of the Rottweiler.

'I can do this.' She thought.

She carefully reached out her hand to grab the squeaker and working as gently as she could, Moira successfully managed to pry the bone out from the dog's grip. She grinned.

"Come on, kid. Quit wasting my time!" A voice yelled.

Moira froze and turned her head to see a woman and her son talking to a man dressed as a royal jester; she wasn't sure what was going on.

"Hey, you can't talk to my son that way! Who do you think you are?" The woman yelled.

"I'm the Queen's Jester, you old hag. And your son smells like boogers." The jester retorted.

"Hey, you can't talk about my wife that way." A burly man said as he stood by his wife. "What do you think this is?"

"I think it's time for you to lose some weight, fatty. That's what this is."

"Hey, you can't talk to my grandson like that." An elderly woman added. "Someone oughta put you in a mental hospital."

"Someone should put you in a box floating down the river, Grandma!"

"You're probably right." The old woman sighed.

"You people are crazy!"

Moira rolled her eyes and tried to crawl out from under the bench as quietly as possible. A fanfare suddenly sounded, causing Moira to jump, hit her head on the bench, and accidentally squeeze the toy bone in her hand.

"Ow!" She cried out in pain.

That was enough to wake the baby up from its nap and start crying very loudly; the dogs woke up soon afterwards and the quickly growled fiercely at the thief who stole their bone.

"Oh no…" Moira muttered as she stood up and hid the bone behind her back. "Uh, nice doggies. Nice BIG doggies. Uh, go away please. You don't really wanna hurt me, do you?"

"Moira, RUN!" Holmes screamed.

And boy, did she run. She ran as best as she could in her dress, which was rather difficult.

"Good doggies, nice doggies!" Moira screamed as she raced across the park back over to Holmes.

"Did you get the clue?" He asked.

"Right here." She replied before continuing to run with Holmes right beside her. "Where are we going now?!"

"Anywhere but _here_!" Holmes replied. "This way!"

Spotting a golf kart in a nearby backstage area, Moira realized it could help them escape. "No, this way! Follow me, I have an idea!" She took Holmes's hand and led him towards the vehicle. Holmes was practically dragged through the park while he tried not to trip over the skirt of his disguise. Many of the park's inhabitants were watching the scene unfold with confused looks. The pair climbed into the kart.

"Moira, what are you doing?!" Holmes demanded.

"We're driving outta here!" The girl answered.

"But you CAN'T DRIVE!"

"That's where _you_ come in! _You_ maneuver the pedals while _I_ steer!"

"Isn't there another option?" Before Moira could answer, three sets of barking were heard. Holmes froze. "On second thought, you drive." He lifted her onto his lap and he buckled them both in.

"Hold on tight!" Turning the key in the ignition and grabbing hold of the gear shifter, Moira started up the engine. "STEP ON IT!" Holmes stepped down hard on the accelerator pedal and the kart took off in a flash.

Holmes gripped the seat beneath him as the little girl sitting on top of him was trying her best to steer clear of any attractions and pedestrians with the three dogs still running after them and barking. Being only eight years old, Moira had no idea how to drive and she was doing a pretty clumsy job. The dogs were catching up and Moira made the cart make some pretty sharp turns, but it didn't slow down those relentless hounds. Holmes looked around and found a lever; he thought it would help, so he pressed down on it and shards of grass rained down on the dogs to slow them down.

"Nice move." Moira complimented.

"Thank you." The detective replied before the kart hit part of a small fence, which caused Moira to fall off.

Luckily, she didn't fall off completely and her legs and dress were dangling off the side and right in front of one of the pursuing dogs. The dog caught hold of Moira's skirt and began pulling at her. She screamed as she tried to keep her grip on the steering wheel as well as her eyes on the road; Holmes held onto her tightly and pulled, locked in a tug-of-war with the dog.

"Let go of her!" He shouted, hitting the squeaky toy on the dog's head in order to make him let go; the other two dogs were now following their comrade. "Who's a good doggy?! Ugh, they won't go away!"

Moira got another idea. "Hey, grab the clue and throw them the squeaker! It's what they're after!"

Quickly, Holmes pulled the card from the toy. "Got it!" Then he raised the toy over his head and threw it away from him and Moira, causing the three dogs to let go of the dress and chase after the toy. He hoisted Moira back onto his lap before she turned to face forward again. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good." She replied.

"Ah, there. That wasn't so…" Holmes was about to sigh in relief, until things took a turn for the worse. "…BAAAAD!"

While they were struggling, Moira had accidentally steered the kart towards a tile of stacked chairs and picnic tables and, while they were both screaming, the kart soared through the air and crashed into a tree that stood in front of the tables and chairs. Luckily, Holmes and Moira had unbuckled themselves and they jumped out of the golf kart before anyone could notice; they landed in the nearby duck pond with a loud splash. A huge crowd of people came around to see what was going on; the dogs, on the other hand, continued to happily chew on their toy.

In the duck pond, Moira and Holmes emerged from the water, gasping and wheezing for air while simultaneously spitting out the disgusting water. They quickly made a run for it while everyone was distracted by the golf kart still lodged in the tree. They ran to the wall, climbed over it, and ran down the sidewalk until they went into an alley way next to a Laundromat. They took off their costumes, dried themselves off with some towels and got back into their original clothes, breathing heavily.

"What a rush." Moira heaved as she finished drying her hair with the towel.

"Well, that was a bit of unconventional parking." Holmes commented, tossing his towel to the side and tying his scarf around his neck.

"Okay, now that you and I are out of harm's way _again_ , can we see what the next clue is?"

"Certainly."

Holmes held up the M card, flipped it over, and found a diamond ring taped to the other side. The moment he saw it, he gasped in terror and he went pale. "Of course this would be next. I should've known." He muttered. "Nigel Moriarty, you monster. Forcing me to face my greatest fears…"

Moira took the ring and inspected it; she raised an eyebrow. "A ring? What's so scary about _this_?"

Holmes didn't answer her question. His only response was, "Very well. If he wants to dance, then dance we shall!" He made a dramatic pose.

Shaking her head and giggling under her breath, Moira walked out of the alley with the ring still in her hand. Holmes noticed her leaving and with a sigh, he followed after her.


	11. Imogen's Gems

"Peter, would you give the pacing a rest, please?" Watson asked. "I'm getting dizzy."

"Sorry, but I'm desperate. There has to be a way out of here!" Peter said as he stopped.

"The door is locked and there aren't any windows, so the only way out is the skylight." Lydia explained to her grandson; he looked up at the window in the ceiling. "But there's no way to get up there."

"There _has_ to be. I'm gonna do whatever it takes o get all of us out of here and back to Moira." Peter said, sounding determined. "What we need is a plan."

"And I believe _I_ already have one." Watson said. "I just need a pen and some paper."

"Will these work, doctor?" Jonathon asked as he took a notepad and a pen out of his coat pocket.

"Yes, that's perfect. Thank you, sir." Watson opened the notepad and began to draw a diagram of the room with the pen. He showed it to Peter. "Peter, you and I can scale those bricks, grab onto that wooden beam, shimmy our way across it, reach the skylight, get around to the door, open it from the other side, and lead everyone to freedom."

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Peter commented.

"But if you two are going to escape, you'll need to distract the McChucky's." Victor pointed.

"Oh yeah, good point. How are we gonna do that?" Peter asked.

"Why don't you leave the distraction to _us_?" Elsa suggested.

"Are you sure, mom?"

"We'll be fine, sweetie. You and Dr. Watson need to get out of here and find your sister and this Mr. Holmes."

"Yeah. We'll deal with those goons." Victor added.

"Thanks, guys." Peter hugged his parents tight.

The door suddenly flew open; everyone jumped at the sight of Big Dave enter with an annoyed look on his face.

"Oye! What's goin' on in here?!" He demanded; he saw Peter and his parents hugging and gagged at the sight. "Ugh. If you're going to show emotion, do it on your own time." He slammed the door.

"I suggest we act fast, or else." Watson muttered; Peter nodded as he looked at the skylight.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Mr. Holmes, how much longer?" Moira asked as Holmes practically dragged her along the sidewalk.

"There it is. That's where the clue is leading us." He cried, gesturing to the building that stood before them. There was a large sign hanging over the door that read 'Imogen's Gems'.

"A _jewelry_ store?" Moira questioned.

"Yes. This ring belongs to an old acquaintance of mine; the boss of the most successful jeweler in London." Holmes explained before leading the little girl to the store's door. He rapped the glass of the door lightly and a redheaded woman dressed in pink answered. "Hello, Agnes."

"What do _you_ want?" The woman asked.

"I need to speak to your boss." He held up the ring.

"What for?" Agnes questioned.

"It's very important that I speak with her post haste." Holmes replied; Moira nodded.

Reluctantly, Agnes opened the door. She chuckled. "Your funeral."

Holmes swallowed nervously as he took Moira's hand and led her into the shop. Inside, the walls were all painted pink, there were display cases lining the walls, and all kinds of gems and jewels were inside. A few women wearing the same shade of pink as Agnes were also inside; they must've been the employees. Holmes led Moira to a desk in the very back of the shop where two women stood.

"Which one's the boss?" She asked, looking frightened.

"Neither. Stay close to me." Holmes shook his head and held her hand tight; she nodded.

"He wants to speak to Miss Adler." Agnes said.

The two girls behind the counter nodded their heads at her then at each other and quickly went into the back room through another door. Moira couldn't tell what was going on behind that door, but soon the girls returned with another woman following them. This woman had short blonde hair, fair skin, long eyelashes, bright red lipstick, and she was wearing a frilly pink dress with matching gloves, leggings, shoes, and even a wide-brimmed hat atop her head. She gave Holmes a death stare before saying,

"Shamus Holmes. You've got a lot of nerve showing your face around here."

"Hello, Imogen." Holmes greeted with a slight tremor in his voice. "You're looking well."

"A letter. You ended our engagement in a letter." Imogen elegantly snapped.

'Engaged? They used to be a couple?! Holy cow! No wonder Mr. Holmes looks so tense!' Moira thought, looking up at Holmes in disbelief.

"Now after months of silence, you show up with…" Imogen looked around in confusion, but then she looked down to see Moira giving her a nervous smile. The little girl suddenly froze under the gaze of those icy eyes glaring down at her. "…You brought a CHILD with you?!"

Almost as if on reflex, Moira hid behind Holmes for safety as fast as she could. He put a comforting hand on her head before turning to Imogen and saying, "Moira is only here because her family has gone missing."

"What's she been doing? Whining or complaining?" Imogen laughed.

"Excuse me?!" Moira scowled.

"She's a _friend_ , Imogen." Holmes tried to explain.

"Friend? Whatever happened to 'temporary assistant'?" Moira asked.

"That, too."

"Temporary assistant?" Imogen paused. "Is this some kind of joke, Shamus? Bringing a _child_ with you? And a YANK of all people?"

Moira huffed and folded her arms in annoyance; how could Shamus even have feelings for a woman like this?

"Moira Frankenstein is _much_ smarter than she looks." Holmes said. " _She_ was the one who retrieved the last clue in the first place, down at Highland Park."

"Hmph. I'll believe it when I see it. But whatever happened to your old assistant, Joseph Watson?"

"He is _not_ my assistant, you know that. He is my partner… and he's missing, too."

"He is?" Imogen's eyes widened ever so slightly.

"Yes. You see, he and my older, Peter, were kidnapped sometime last night and we need to find them as soon as possible." Moira explained.

"She's right. So you might as well hand over the next clue, Imogen."

" _Me_? What makes you think _I_ have it?"

" _This_ is one of yours, isn't it?" Holmes held up the ring. "This is the clue that led us here. _You_ know more about gems and precious stones better than anyone else in this entire city. Don't tell me you don't recognize it. And don't even _try_ lying to me."

"I don't know, Shamus." Imogen drawled. "There are lots of rings in this city; that little bauble could belong to anyone."

"Imogen, please! We don't have time for this! Just hand over the clue." Holmes pleaded.

"Of course, you're only here on work. That's all you've _ever_ cared about, really." Imogen snapped. "Well, I'm sorry to say this but…" She slowly pulled an M card out of the folds of her dress and held it up in from of Moira and Holmes. "…if you want this card, then you'll have to pry it from my cold dead hand."

"Oh please. I'm _not_ stooping to that level." Holmes scoffed.

"And neither am _I_." Moira huffed.

"Very well." Imogen snapped her fingers. "Ladies, would you mind showing these two to the door?"

"Yes, ma'am." Agnes said as she and three other employees grabbed Holmes and Moira and dragged them both to the door where they were pushed out of the store; the door slammed behind them.

"Well, that was rather unpleasant." Holmes said as he brushed off his coat.

"Yeah, no kidding." Moira said as she got back onto her feet.

"I knew she had the clue, because she was expecting me. She'll need at least one hour to cool down."

"What?! An _hour_?! No! We don't have that kind of time!"

"You think I don't know that? We'll need to think of some other way to get that clue."

"Relax. I got this." She marched right up to the door and started banging on it. "Listen up, lady! You've got something I need and I am NOT leaving here without it!"

Holmes gasped, half-frightened by her actions. He stood up. "Are you _insane_? You can't provoke Imogen like that! There's no telling what she'll— Oh!"

The door unlocked and a young woman with fair skin and long hazelnut brown hair pulled into a ponytail stood in the doorway. Holmes froze; he immediately recognized her.

"Melanie?" He asked.

"Hello, Shamus." The woman said.

"I… I haven't seen you in ages. What are you doing working in a place like this?"

"That's not important. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Miss Adler. I'm very sorry about what happened to Dr. Watson." She looked at Moira. "And your brother."

"You two know each other?" Moira asked, looking back at Holmes.

"Melanie and I have been schoolmates in our youth." Holmes explained. "We used to be friends, however we both had different academic goals and pursuits. I was more interested in history and science while Melanie here took a liking to cooking as well as the arts. But what are you doing here, Melanie?"

"My uncle forced me to get a job here." Melanie replied. "But that isn't the point. The point is… I can help you get the clue."

"You can?!" Moira exclaimed.

"Yes and you can come with me. But I'm afraid _you_ can't, Shamus. It's nothing personal; it's just the rules."

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes."

"Don't worry, Moira. I'll be waiting out here for you the entire time."

"Okay, let's go."

And with that, Melanie led Moira back into the shop. Imogen was about to go back into her office when she turned to see Moira approach the desk. Melanie stood to the side and patiently waited, remaining silent.

"Oh, hello." She coldly greeted. "Here I thought all Yanks were overweight and selfish. But you're actually… cute. Care to join me for some tea?"

Moira didn't have time to answer; there was already a cup of tea sitting in front of her. Agnes offered a bowl of sugar, which the little girl politely pushed away.

"Uh, no thank you. I just need—" She started.

"I often wondered what it was like in the Colonies." Imogen interrupted. "Wearing the same clothes every day would be like a fashion prison for me. And living as middle class must be awful. You're basically living like a dog."

Moira sighed. "Look, I don't really have time for this. My family is in danger. So if you'll just please hand over the clue—"

"Work, work, work. Ugh. I can see why Shamus chose you."

"Wait, _what_? What are you talking about? Mr. Holmes didn't _choose_ me."

"And he never will. With Shamus, work always comes first. There's always another case to crack, another mystery to solve, another secret to uncover. A _complete_ waste of time if you ask me."

"Well, I _didn't_ ask you. And you don't understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly."

"I don't like your tone, Miss Adler. What do you take me for anyway?"

"I don't like _your_ tone, Yank. What makes you think you can speak to me that way?"

"I'm in a hurry, so excuse me if I'm on edge!"

"That is no excuse! I have half a mind to throw you into the dumpster out back right now for speaking to me like that!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"ENOUGH!"

The room went quiet and everyone in the store directed their attention to Moira, Imogen, and Melanie who was giving her employer a dark glare.

"I know it's none of my business, Imogen, but it's pretty clear to me that you never cared about Shamus." Melanie ranted. "From what I've seen, it's always been about _you_. While you two were together, it was never about what Shamus wanted or needed or even what he felt; I've seen it. He tried to be a good boyfriend to you, didn't he? I know he did. And what did you do? You just pushed him away and said it wasn't good enough. Nothing is _ever_ good enough for you, is it?"

Moira suddenly stood straight. "She's right. Sure, Mr. Holmes can be pretty stubborn and arrogant at times, but he's also brave and considerate. He even comforted me when I had a nervous breakdown last night. _I_ even helped him get that clue back at the Medieval Festival. He believes in me, he listens to me, and it's pretty clear that he trusts me almost as much as he trusts Dr. Watson. And he said so himself that he would do _anything_ to get him back."

Imogen sat in silence for a moment or two before saying, "A man doesn't make you strong."

"You're right. A man doesn't make you strong." Moira said. "But the right partner or friend can make you stronger. But I've let _my_ partner down… and now I need to make it right."

Imogen stared at Moira and Melanie with grudging respect and she was pretty impressed with their strength and words, although it was short-lived.

"Alright, fine. I'll give you what you want, child." Imogen sighed. "But only on two conditions. Firstly, you tell Shamus this had nothing to do with him."

"Okay. And second?"

"After you saved the day, you come back and tell me all about it." She handed the little girl the card.

Moira smiled and took the card. "Looks like we have a deal." She headed towards the door with Melanie behind her. "Mr. Holmes, I got the clue."

"Perfect!" Holmes said as the girl gave him the clue. "Thank you."

The card had the infamous M on it and there was a bit of writing on the back. Holmes examined it before reading it aloud.

" _ **You already know it's all about you. So what is the pattern in the final clue?**_ "

"What does it mean?" Moira asked.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Where are they leading us?" Holmes muttered before going into his mind palace again. Suddenly, it clicked. He remembered seeing different patterns on each card they had collected. "Traitor's Gate, that's it! The entrance to the Tower of London! That was where Watson and I solved our first case. But it's on the other side of the city. There's only seven hours until midnight; we're running out of time."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Moira said as she started to run down the sidewalk.

Holmes was about to follow her before he paused and looked back at Melanie. He went over to her and as quickly as possible, gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Thank you." He said before running off.

Melanie put a hand to her cheek and blushed. Slowly, a smile crept onto her lips.


	12. Peter and Watson's Escape

"Okay, almost done." Peter said to himself as he tightened something with a wrench. "And there! Finished!" He held up what almost looked like two backpacks, only they had a rolled of something wrapped up in the back.

"Peter? What is that?" Watson asked.

"Is that some kind of new fangled jetpack?" Lydia asked.

"No, grandma." Peter replied. "It's not a jetpack. It's something I started when Dr. Watson and I first got here. With these air-launched grappling hooks, we can travel vertically up a building or at any angle we want, like bugs. You know, in theory."

"Are you sure that's safe?" Victor asked nervously.

"Shouldn't you at least test them first?" Jonathon added.

"There's no time, guys. Moriarty and his goons will be coming back any minute so we need to do this _now_."

"Peter's right." Watson said, grabbing one of the boy's devices and putting it on his back. Peter put his on too. "If we're going to do this, we need to do it right now. You all know what to do."

Elsa, Victor, Jonathon, and Lydia looked at each other and the rest of the hostages before turning back to Peter and Watson and nodding their heads.

Outside, Big Dave was just about to fall asleep when he suddenly heard crashing and yelling going on behind the door. He got up from his chair and barged in. The moment he came in, everyone in the room was either arguing or panicking, including Victor, Lydia, Elsa, and Jonathon; Peter and Watson were hiding in a corner directly underneath the skylight.

"Oye, what's goin' on in here?!" He demanded.

"Will you tell this imbecile that this is my spot?" One woman said in anger.

"No! If anything, it's _my_ spot!" The man standing beside her retorted.

"I need to get out of here!" Lydia cried as she sat in a fetal position. "I can't deal with close spaces! I'm freaking out!"

"Someone let us out of here!" Jonathon commanded, holding her close. "My wife needs fresh air! NOW!"

"I cannot believe this! This is all _your_ fault!" Elsa pretended to argue with her husband.

"ME?! How is it _my_ fault?!" Victor yelled at his wife.

"Okay, okay! Stop it! Stop fighting, all of you! Break it up, break it up!" Big Dave screamed, trying to get everyone's attention.

As everyone was fighting and screaming, Peter and Watson had climbed the wall and up to the skylight without Big Dave taking any notice. They shimmied across the beam and reached the skylight, Peter unlocked the window, and he and Watson climbed out as carefully as possible. When they made it outside, Peter pulled a cord on his pack which caused a hook to attach itself to the roof of the building. Watson did the same. Taking a deep breath and closing their eyes, they both jumped and before they could hit the ground, they stopped in mid air. After a moment, they opened their eyes and realized that they were hanging only two feet off the ground. They deactivated their packs and looked at each other in excitement as they were back on the ground.

"They work. They work!" Peter cheered.

"We did it!" Watson declared before he noticed headlights driving up the road towards them. "Oh no! Someone's coming! Hide, quick!"

Watson pulled Peter into a bush just as a bunch of vans pulled into the driveway. A man got out of one of the vans; it was Moriarty.

"Now, remember what I told you." Moriarty said to the other men who came out of the other vans. "Show no mercy."

"Yes, sir." The men said in unison.

"We've gotta do something." Peter whispered.

"No wait." Watson whispered back.

"What are you doing?"

"Shush."

It was then that Moriarty led his new henchmen into the building and after a few minutes, they came back with every single one of the remaining hostages. Peter and Watson watched in horror was those innocent people were thrown into the back of the vans. Moriarty smiled.

"Yes, that's it." He said. "Take them to the palace. It's time we pay Her Majesty a visit."

"Yes, sir."

They all got back into the vans and started to drive off. Peter looked at Watson, unsure of what to make of that exchange.

"They're going to see the _Queen_." Watson deduced.

"We've gotta go after them." Peter said as he jumped out of the bushes. Luckily, the vans were gone by then.

"But how are we going to keep up with them?" Watson asked before noticing an old car parked near the building; he got an idea. "We can use that!"

He and Peter ran over to the vehicle; they looked inside and it didn't look to bad.

"I think I can hotwire this, but I'm not making any promises." Peter said as he crawled into the space under the wheel.

"Good thinking, Peter!" Watson declared.

"Thanks." The boy said as he started to fidget with the wires of the car. After a minute or two, the car sparked to life. "I got it!"

"Great job!" Watson climbed into the driver seat after Peter crawled his way into the passenger seat.

They took off their packs; he put the car in drive and they drove away from the building and down the road, going after Moriarty's brigade of vans.

"We need to find Moira and Mr. Holmes." Peter said.

"Hopefully we can find them soon." Watson replied.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Exhausted and relieved, Holmes and Moira had finally made it to the Tower of London. They snuck past guards and roaming tourists until they reached the gate. By the time they got past it, the sky was already pretty dark but luckily, it wasn't midnight just yet.

"Okay. This is the place, so where are they?" Moira asked.

"They must be inside." Holmes answered. "Show yourself, Moriarty!"

No answer. Moira gulped as she and Holmes slowly ascended the stairs leading into the tower itself.

"Are we really gonna do this? We're basically trespassing." She whispered.

"What choice do we have? Just stay close to me." Holmes replied as he reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; Moira followed close behind. "Remember, this might be a trick so we need to be careful."

"Right."

They separated and carefully searched the dark room, looking for any form of life.

"I heard this place is haunted." Moira muttered. "Do you think we might run into any ghosts?"

"Of course not. Ghosts are superstitions and nothing more. Now, shush. Focus." Holmes hissed.

Moira remained quiet and continued to search until she heard something move. It sounded like it was above her so she looked up, but she could hardly tell because it was so dark. Then she suddenly felt something prick her arm.

"Ow!" She cried out.

"I said _quiet_." Holmes hissed before he saw the silhouette of his companion fall over. He quickly ran over to her and picked her up. "Moira? Moira, are you alright?"

There was no response; Moira was now unconscious. Holmes froze and started to panic before he felt something prick the back of his neck. He felt his neck and took something that was sticking out of his flesh, it was a dart. Suddenly, he felt very dizzy and his eyelids were heavy. Before slipping into unconsciousness, he smirked.

"I should've known it was a trap." He croaked before falling to the floor with Moira lying on top of him; everything faded to black.


	13. Moriarty's True Plan

Moira woke up groggy, dizzy, and disoriented; she opened her eyes, but it was almost completely dark. She sat up and rubbed her head with one hand, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Ugh, what happened?" She sighed before hearing a moan.

"Moira?" Holmes's voice asked.

"Mr. Holmes?" Moira asked as she shakily got up. She felt her way around until she nearly tripped over a large mass in the dark.

"Ow! What was that?" Holmes cried out.

"Mr. Holmes!" Moira exclaimed running towards the voice. She knelt down to where she thought Holmes was and could make out his silhouette in the darkness. "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine." Holmes replied, sitting up. "Are you?"

"A little sore and confused, but I'm okay. Where are we?"

"I'm not sure."

Holmes looked around the room and noticed a small window in another corner of the room. He went over to it and looked out. Moira went over to the window and what she saw outside made her and Holmes's blood run cold. They were up in the highest room of a very tall tower and the drop looked very deadly. It was already dark out. Moira looked up at Holmes, hoping for an explanation to all of this.

"We've been drugged." Holmes deduced as he turned around; he noticed a door to a prison cell in the wall adjacent to the window. "And now we've been locked in one of the cells in the Tower of London." He checked his wrist watch. "And you know what else? We only have an hour and a half until midnight!"

"WHAT?!" Moira cried. She checked the watch around her neck. "But it was about 6:30 when we got here! Are you saying we've been unconscious for _four hours_?!"

"What else would I be saying?"

" _Surprise, Shamus!_ " A third, unfamiliar voice exclaimed; this voice sounded like it was over some sort of loudspeaker.

Holmes immediately recognized the voice and the expression on his face quickly turned into one of seriousness. Moira wrapped her arms around Holmes for protection, he held her close.

" _Sorry to not be in touch._ " The voice cackled. " _I was pretending to be dead. Oh, also, I hate you._ "

"Nigel Moriarty, how awful to hear from you." Holmes dryly answered; he looked bored as if he was used to this sort of thing.

" _That's_ Moriarty?" Moira whispered in fear.

" _I've heard quite a few stories about you lately, Shamus._ " Moriarty's voice babbled. " _Like how you've been letting a little girl tag along on this investigation. I mean, really. You can do SO much better than THAT._ "

"Enough of your blathering, Moriarty. The last time I saw you, you were practically plunged into darkness. Watson and I haven't seen or heard from you since, no one has. How could you have survived?" Holmes demanded.

" _Well, that's a funny story._ " Moriarty chuckled. " _You thought I was gone for good. But I've always been pretty lucky. Not only did I survive my fall, but I came up with the perfect plan to finally bring you down._ "

"By kidnapping innocent people?"

" _Those innocent people are far more important than you realize. You see, while I was in hiding, I discovered something that will help me finally get what I want most in this world: total control. All I needed were a few of the wealthiest families in this city and now that I have them, I can carry on with my plans._ "

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Then why do you need my mom, dad, and grandparents?" Moira asked.

" _Oh, children are always so tiresomely naïve._ " Moriarty explained. " _Little girl, YOUR family is just as important to my plans as the rest of the families I stole. Once we arrive at our destination and perform the ceremony, the Queen will have no choice but to surrender the crown to yours truly and everyone in this city will be as obedient to me as a common dog._ "

"You monster!" The little girl screamed.

" _Flattery will get you nowhere. In a matter of minutes, we'll be arriving at our stop._ "

"Which is?" Holmes asked.

" _The palace, of course._ " Moriarty answered. " _To a glorious Gala hosted by the Queen herself._ "

Holmes's eyes widened; he was talking about the Buckingham Garden Party that was taking place at the castle that very night. He furrowed his brow in thought; he had to come up with a plan.

" _Oh Shamus, even though we're not in the same room, I can tell right away that all of those cogs and gears are turning in your head right now, trying to work out how to stop me._ " Moriarty said. " _But it's too late. You and your little friend are trapped in the Tower FOREVER. And there's no way for either of you to escape. So the game is not afoot, or ahead, or a hand, it's just OVER. And you_ lose _. Bye-bye._ "

Silence. After a moment or two, Moira started to panic; her breathing became faster and she began to pace the floor. Holmes just leaned against the wall in silence.

"This can't be happening. This can't be happening! " She cried as tears started to fall from her eyes. "What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?!"

"ENOUGH!" Holmes screamed. "Moriarty is going to take over the city and there is no way for us to stop him! There's nothing we _can_ do! We're trapped! There's nothing we can do…" He slunk down to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

Moira paused and looked at Holmes; she wiped her eyes and hesitantly sat down next to him.

"Mr. Holmes? Are you okay?" She asked.

"Am I okay? Am I okay?!" He yelled. "No! No, I'm NOT okay! I'm stumped! I admit it, I am STUMPED! I don't know what to do. I thought I knew what I was doing, I thought I could stop Moriarty, but I was _wrong_. I've lost my edge. I should've said 'no' when LeStrade offered me that damned case. I wasn't smart enough to see any of this coming. I wasn't smart enough to realize that this was all a trap. I'm not smart enough to do _anything_."

The room went silent again. Moira sat in silence as Holmes sulked. She was surprised to see him so distraught and sad; it was almost out of character for him. He always knew what to do, he always had a plan, but now… he just felt completely useless. He felt he was finally bested by Moriarty and there was nothing else to be done about it. She then got up from the floor and went over to the window.

"Help! Heeeelp!" She yelled.

Holmes turned his head to face the window and furrowed his brow.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Calling for help." Moira answered.

"That isn't going to help. No one can hear you."

"But… there has to be _something_."

"There _isn't_. I already told you, we've lost."

Moira turned to look at Holmes and she narrowed her eyes.

"What kind of attitude is that?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips. "We can't give up that easy. _You_ can't give up that easy."

"Didn't you hear me?"

"Yes, I did, but are _you_ even listening to _yourself_? This is NOT the Shamus Holmes I've come to know. You always know what to do. And sure we may be in a bit of a predicament now, but that doesn't mean all hope is lost. You must've faced far worse stuff than this, right? Right! So if you can get out of a water tank wrapped in a straight jacket, then you can certainly get out of THIS."

"I have _never_ been in a situation like that."

"Look, the point is that you can practically do anything, as long as you believe in yourself."

"I just… feel like a complete failure."

"There's no such thing as failure until you give up. _That_ is when you fail."

Holmes paused. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you need it. Believe it or not, I've seen a scenario like this before. Well, technically I've read it, but still."

"How could you possibly know?"

"I told you, I've read a lot of mystery stories in my time. And Sabrina Drake is my _favorite_ book series ever. This is just like in Book 33: _Sabrina Drake and the Apollo Amphitheater_. Sabrina and her friend, Nora Rodgers, get themselves trapped in a secret room at the very top of the building. There's no way out, the door is locked, and there's only one window."

"So what do _you_ suggest we do?"

"I suggest we do what Sabrina and Nora do in the book."

"Yelling out the window?"

"Pick the lock of the cell door! You _can_ pick locks, right?"

Holmes opened his mouth to speak before he paused. He stood up, went over to the door, and took out a bobby pin.

"You pin your hair?" Moira asked, sounding confused.

"Only if I need to." Holmes replied as he started to pick the lock. "Come on, come on, come on, come on."

Moira picked up half of a brick from the floor and went over to Holmes. "If you can't pick the lock, maybe you could just smash it with this." She offered him the brick just as the lock on the door unlocked and fell to the floor. "Never mind." She put the stone in her pocket.

"We might need that later on." Holmes said, putting the pin back into his hair and opening the cell door. He took her hand. "Now come on. We're running out of time."

"Let's go." Moira said as she and Holmes ran down the stairs.

As they ran down the stairs and through the halls, alarms suddenly went off and red lights were flashing all around. They covered their ears.

"What's going on?!" Moira loudly asked.

"The security system!" Holmes answered. "We need to get out of here before the police show up!" He stopped at a window and a long power cable that stretched from the window all the way to the front gate. It was quite a few dozen feet off the ground, but it should suffice. "We can go out through here! But you'll need something so that your hands won't burn."

Moira looked around for something to use and saw a stray piece of fabric. It looked long enough and thick enough so she climbed onto the window sill and flung the fabric over the cable. She wrapped the end of the fabric around her hands and kept a tight grip.

"Okay, I'm ready." She said before Holmes got behind her; she took a deep breath.

"On the count of three." Holmes started. "One… two… THREE!"

And with that, he gave her a quick push out the window and she basically zip lined over the courtyard and right to Traitor's Gate. After that, Holmes wrapped his scarf around his hands and he slid down the cable after her. They landed right on the edge of the wall and carefully ran to one of the turrets, searching for a way to get down. All of a sudden, they spotted a car driving on the other side of the river. They yelled at the top of their lungs and waved their hands over their heads to get the driver's attention and luckily, it worked. The car suddenly sped back down the road and drove down the sidewalk towards the gate. As carefully as possible, Moira and Holmes climbed down the turret and ran up to the car… only to see Peter and Dr. Watson in the front seats. They got out of the car and there were a lot of hugs.

"Oh my gosh, Peter! I'm so sorry!" Moira cried, hugging her big brother tightly. "This is all my fault; I thought I'd lost you!"

"That's never gonna happen, little sis." Peter said. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I promise it'll never happen again. I was so worried about you."

"Don't worry, I'm okay. But… what is that thing on your back?"

"Oh, just a little something that helped me and Dr. Watson escape from where Professor Moriarty was holding us hostage."

"There will be time to explain your inventions later, Peter. For now, we need to get to the palace. We're running out of time." Holmes said.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Watson exclaimed as they all got into the car and sped off towards the castle.


	14. The Rescue Part 1

"What a marvelous party!" A woman wearing a green scarf exclaimed.

"Indeed, dear sister; possibly the best one we've ever put together." A woman with her red hair in a tight bun replied.

They were standing in the middle of the most beautiful garden anyone has probably ever seen; the Buckingham Garden Party had gone off without a hitch and everyone was having a wonderful time.

"Thank you so much for putting this together, Muriel, Louise. I truly appreciate it." Her Majesty, the Queen, said to the two women; they smiled and curtsied before her.

"Of course, Your Majesty." The women said before they were suddenly cut off by people screaming.

Moriarty's brigade of vans suddenly pulled into the garden with a loud screeching of tires. One of them pulled up a mere few feet away from Muriel, Louise, the Queen, and her bodyguards.

"What?! What is the meaning of this?! What's happening?!" The Queen exclaimed.

Moriarty stepped out of one of the vans with a wicked smile on his face; he approached the monarch with two of the McChucky brothers following close behind him.

"Good evening, Your Majesty." He said, stopping in front of the Queen. "Sorry I'm late." He smiled.

Holmes, Watson, Peter, and Moira had just pulled up behind the enormous fountain right in front of the palace gates. They all got out of the car and hid behind the fountain, peeking out so that they wouldn't be seen. The gates were shut and locked and two large, muscled men were guarding the gate; they were two more McChucky brothers. The group of four ducked back down behind the car.

"What are we gonna do? Security looks tight and that gate is huge." Peter whispered.

"Don't worry, I already have a plan." Holmes whispered back. "Peter, you and your sister distract those two McChucky's while Watson and I attempt to open the gate. Try not to get yourselves caught."

"Got it." Moira nodded.

"Here, I think you're gonna need this." Peter handed Holmes his grappling pack; the detective reluctantly put it on.

"Thank you." Holmes then pulled the Frankenstein siblings closer to him. "Moira, Peter, this will probably be the most crucial, most dangerous thing you will _ever_ do in your young lives. I am counting on you both."

"Don't worry, Mr. Holmes. We can handle it." Moira said confidently.

"Yeah, leave it to us." Peter added.

"Good. Oh, and kids?" His expression turned serious. "Please be careful."

Peter and Moira nodded at him and slinked away from their hiding spot to commence their part of the plan. Watson gave Holmes a concerned look.

"You do realize that Moira and Peter are the children of your old childhood friend?" He asked.

"…Yes, I do know." Holmes replied, keeping an eye on them.

While the two guards were thumb wrestling, Peter and Moira each hid behind a trash can on opposite sides of the gate so they couldn't be seen. They slowly peeked their heads out and nodded at one another before putting their plan into action. They ran out in front of the two McChucky's.

"Hey, batter, batter, batter! Hey, batter, batter! Hey, batter, batter! Hey, batter, batter, batter! SWING!" Peter yelled.

"Hey, boneheads! Over here! Wanna play a game? How about a game of baseball? Or better yet, chase!" Moira cried.

The McChucky's stopped what they were doing.

"Hey, that's very distracting!" One McChucky yelled back.

"Get them!" The other shouted.

"Okay, we got their attention. Now what?" Moira asked.

"We run." Peter answered before grabbing his sister's hand and running away.

"They're getting away! After them!" The older McChucky said as he and his brother went after them.

Holmes and Watson watched the scene unfold before them, stifling their laughter.

"Those McChucky's are even dumber than I thought." Watson commented.

"Indeed. Let's go." Holmes hissed before he and his partner ran over to the gate.

While Watson and Holmes were working on the gate, Peter and Moira jumped onto the edge of the fountain. By now, the two McChucky's were very annoyed and very angry with this young duo.

"Over here!" Moira called.

"Nope, over _here_!" Peter shouted.

"How about this way? Or this way?"

"Nice try. Behind you, pal."

The men ran over to each child as fast as they could, intending to restrain them. But instead allowing themselves to be caught, Moira and Peter jumped out of the way and the McChucky's fell straight into the fountain, leaving them wet, confused, and very, VERY angry. Peter and Moira laughed.

"Don't they know kids always win against two idiots?" Moira said proudly.

"We're Peter and Moira, they didn't stand a chance." Peter gave his sister a high-five.

"Kids!" Holmes called.

They ran over to the gate, only to see Holmes struggling with the lock. Then Moira remembered something. She took the brick out of her pocket and put it in Holmes's open hand. She gave him a knowing look; he nodded at her before he started smashing the lock on the gate with it. The lock broke and the gate opened.

"I told you that brick would come in handy." Holmes said.

"Sometimes, simplicity is all you need." Moira replied.

"We're running out of time. Come on!" Peter said before the four of them ran through the gate and up to the palace.

They hid in one of the bushes just by the wall; the front doors were only a few feet away.

"So, where is everyone?" Moira asked.

"Most likely at the garden in the back. And the quickest way to get there is through the palace." Holmes answered.

"But how are we supposed to get in? The front doors will surely be guarded _and_ locked." Peter said.

"The windows aren't." Watson said, pointing a finger upwards. "Hurry, before someone sees."

Peter and Moira looked up to see a window above them; they smiled. Holmes and Watson pried the window open as quietly as possible and the four of them snuck into the palace. After closing the window, they ran through the beautiful, lavish halls until they finally came across a pair of glass double doors which led out to the garden. They hid near the doors and slowly peeked out to see the garden; people were sitting or crouching down in fear as Moriarty put his hostages into place. Moira spotted Victor and Elsa.

"Mom and dad." She whispered.

"Don't worry, we'll rescue them. We'll rescue them all." Watson said comfortingly.

"Kids, would you two take care of the rest of the McChucky's while Watson and I help these poor people escape?" Holmes asked.

"You can count on us, sir." Peter said as he opened the nearest window.

Moira climbed out first, then her brother. They crawled through several bushes and shrubs military style until they stumbled upon some gardening tools lying around in another corner of the garden. They smiled and nodded at each other; they already knew what to do.

"Almost ready, boss." Big Dave said to himself.

"Excellent." Moriarty said, running his hands wickedly.

Suddenly, Big Dave cried out in surprise and he stumbled forward.

"What are you doing?" Moriarty asked.

"Something just hit me in the head." Big Dave answered.

"Hey, over here!" A young female voice called.

Everyone in the garden turned their heads in the direction of the voice to see Peter and Moira each holding a garden tool with determined looks on their faces. Moriarty instantly recognized Peter and he sneered.

"So you managed to escape my trap, hmm? Not bad for a silly little boy." He said tauntingly. That was when he noticed Moira standing next to Peter. "And this must be your sister; AKA, the delusional brat who's been helping that spineless chickenhearted Shamus all day. And what do I know? It's just a little girl, a little lassie, a little bluebird." Moira winced at Moriarty in disgust. He chuckled and turned to the three McChucky brothers. "Gentlemen? Could I trouble you three to kill those two for me?"

"Sure thing, boss." The three brothers said, giving a salute.

"Well, how about a little mud ball first?" Moira said; she was holding a handful of fresh mud in her hand. She turned to Peter; he nodded at her as he readied the shovel he was holding. "Time for those forced baseball lessons to pay off."

"Batter up." Peter said, nodding his head.

And with a flick of her arm, Moira threw the ball of mud towards Peter, he hit the mud, it flew through the air, and Moriarty was suddenly hit in the face with it. He wiped the mud from his face; he was now angrier than before.

"What are you waiting for?! Get them!" He demanded, pointing a finger at them.

"Run?" Moira asked.

"Run." Peter answered before the two of them ran off in a different direction; the McChucky's started to chase after them.

"Peter, Moira!" Victor yelled.

"My babies!" Elsa cried.

"Those two are good." Watson whispered to Holmes as they watched the McChucky's chase the Frankenstein kids around the garden.

"Indeed." Holmes replied. "Now, _I'll_ draw his fire while _you_ rescue the hostages."

"Hold on, you want _me_ to save them?"

"Of course I do. You're Watson; I've always trust you."

Watson smiled proudly to himself as Holmes reached out to grab the door handle.

"Ugh, enough! We've wasted enough time already." Moriarty said.

"Indeed you have." A new voice said.

Moriarty and the captives turned their heads to see Shamus Holmes running towards the center of the garden. Moriarty smiled.

"Ah, Shamus Holmes! You made it, finally! I say it's about time you showed up. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." He said.

"Well, you thought wrong." Holmes replied, sounding serious. "I'm here now. Let these people go, NOW."

"…No."

"What?"

"You heard me. I said _no_. I'd rather keep them and destroy you. I can do that, you know."

Moriarty picked up a large knife from the buffet table and charged toward Holmes with it. He brought the knife down, but he missed.

"Ha! A miss, the first of many!" Holmes said as he ran back towards the castle.

"Oh, the chase has always been my favorite part. Ready or not, here I come!" Moriarty exclaimed, running after the detective.

"Catch me if you can!" Holmes cried as he ran.

The two adversaries ran back into the palace… which gave Watson the opportunity to save the hostages. He ran out of his hiding spot, he went over to each captive, undid their binds, and everyone out of the garden to safety. By the time they made it out to the courtyard at the front of the palace, everyone was either breathing heavily or crying in relief.

"Is everyone okay?" He asked.

"We're fine. Thank you, Dr. Watson." Lydia said, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Yes, thank you." Jonathon added.

"Thank you so very much." The Queen said, approaching the doctor and shaking his hand.

"You're welcome, Your Majesty." Watson said, trying to stay calm.

"Wait, where are the kids?" Elsa asked.

"Oh my gosh, Moira and Peter!" Victor exclaimed.

"Get over here, you little swine!" Big Dave shouted.

Everyone turned around to see the three McChucky brothers covered in mud and leaves and still chasing after Peter and Moira. They twisted and turned all over the courtyard, until finally the McChucky's were so dizzy and tired that they couldn't see where they were going… and they collided into each other, falling to the ground unconscious. Moira and Peter cheered and gave each other a high-five before Watson ran over to them and hugged them both.

"Kids! Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, we're okay." Moira answered.

"Wait, where's Mr. Holmes?" Peter asked.

"In the palace. Moriarty is chasing him with a knife." Watson answered.

"Oh no! He could kill him!" Peter cried.

"Come on, Peter! We gotta help him!" Moira exclaimed as she and her brother ran inside.

"Kids, no! Wait! Come back!" Watson yelled; he turned to Victor and Elsa. "Is this what you have to deal with all the time?"

The couple nervously shrugged at him in response. Watson sighed and ran into the palace after them.


	15. The Rescue Part 2

"Oh Shamus! Come out, come out wherever you are!" Moriarty taunted.

'Not on your life.' Holmes thought as he kept his breathing as silent as possible.

He was hiding from him behind a set of damask curtains; he needed to catch his breath.

"It pains me to do this to you, Shamus."

"No it doesn't. No one is forcing you to do anything, Moriarty."

"I know. But _you_ are the only one who understands me, little Shamey-Wamey. And I know you feel the same way about _me_."

"Not true!"

Just as Moriarty reached Holmes's hiding place, Holmes struck his enemy hard in the face with a metal tray and ran off down the hall, dropping it in the process.

"Get back here, you vile wretch!" Moriarty said, shaking his head.

"Come on, Nigel! That's no way to play the game! The only way for you to stop me is to catch me!" Holmes yelled.

"You're on!" Moriarty shouted, quickly gathering himself up and continuing to chase the detective. "You can run, but you can't hide!"

"I'm pretty sure I can!"

"Ugh! I know you, Shamus! Because I know me. We're the same, you and me; too similar to ignore."

"No! You and I are NOTHING alike!"

"Quit lying to yourself! You and I both know who you are!"

"At least _I_ don't hurt anyone for the sake of a sick, delusional, ludicrous game!"

"Sick? Delusional? Ludicrous? That hurts, Shamus, That really hurts."

"No it doesn't!"

"You're right, it doesn't. I'm still going to kill you, though!"

"Try it!"

Holmes continued to run with his arch enemy only a few meters behind him. Holmes was much younger, slimmer, and much more fit than Moriarty, so he already had the advantage of being faster. Suddenly, he came across an open window in another hallway. Thinking fast, Holmes stood up on the window sill, activated the pack Peter had given him, and a hook launched from the pack and out the window, latching onto part of the roof outside. Taking a small step backwards, Holmes fell out the window, only for him to be flung out onto the roof.

"Ooh, you have tricks, eh? Well, _two_ can play at that game." Moriarty tried to go after him, but then he decided to try another way.

Holmes climbed up and up the roof for a good minute or two, but just as he was about to reach the top, he was greeted by Moriarty; he had somehow beaten him up there. He roughly grabbed Holmes by the arm.

"Peek-a-boo! How do you like me _now_?" He asked, lifting the detective up and dropping him onto the ledge in front of him; he slipped and fell onto his backside.

"You know, you're rather needy for a criminal." Holmes pointed out.

Holmes edged backwards; he gasped when he felt his hand slip off the ledge. Somehow, his pack had come loose, it slipped, and it fell down to the unforgiving ground below. Now Holmes was stuck, but when he glanced down, he saw that the garden was empty. It was a very long drop; a fall from that height could very well spell his doom. There was no way out.

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time now, Shamus. I won, you lost, and now, you're _trapped_. I think it's about time our little game ends here… once and for all." Moriarty held the knife over his head, ready to strike.

"Not so fast, Moriarty… I still have a trick or two up my sleeve." Holmes replied with a smirk; his eye caught a few familiar faces.

Moriarty suddenly felt a handful of gravel strike his back. He turned around to see Peter, Moira and Watson standing behind him with determined looks on their faces. He snarled at them.

"It's over, Moriarty!" Peter shouted.

"You have nowhere to run!" Moira added.

"You're outnumbered! You might as well give up now!" Watson chimed in

Moriarty peered down and to his horror, all of the people he stole and the garden party attendees had been rescued and safely out of harm's way. He screamed in anger.

"You saved them?! How? How? How? How?! HOW?!" Moriarty ranted.

"You really must stop underestimating those two." Holmes commented, nodding at Watson and the kids.

"Don't you know, Professor? A couple of kids _always_ win against a few idiots." Moira said with a smug smile; she and Peter high-fived.

"Well in that case, my little bluebird… would you care to prove that theory?!" Moriarty raised the knife over his head and started charging towards the trio.

"LEAVE THEM BE!" Holmes yelled, tackling Moriarty to the ground.

As the two men quarreled, Peter and Moira suddenly stumbled backwards and lost their balance, causing them to slide down until they reached another part of the roof.

"Kids!" Watson cried.

They nearly tumbled off the ledge, but being the fast thinking kids that they were, Moira and Peter grabbed the edge and hoisted themselves up just in the nick of time.

"Are you two alright?" Watson asked, going after them.

"Yeah, we're good." Peter answered.

"But where's Mr. Holmes?" Moira asked.

Meanwhile, Moriarty threw Holmes against the wall and towered over him.

"Oh dear, Shamus. You look tired, poor baby. Allow me to put you to sleep!" And with that, Moriarty brought the knife down only for Holmes to kick the knife out of his hand just before it could strike his head or heart. The knife flew into the air and it suddenly struck Holmes's right though, slicing it open on contact. Holmes screamed in pain as he held his now bleeding leg. Moriarty picked up the weapon again and inspected the fresh blood on its blade. "Hmmmmm. Not exactly what I was going for, but I'll take what I can get. Now why don't you wait up here and quiver like a wounded animal while _I_ go down there and have a little chat with your friends? Back in a tick." He let out a wicked cackle as he left Holmes alone.

"No…" Holmes groaned in pain.

When Watson made his way down to Moira and Peter, he didn't notice Moriarty sneaking up behind him… but the kids did.

"Doctor, behind you!" Peter cried in alarm, pointing behind the doctor.

"Look out!" Moira exclaimed.

Moriarty suddenly grabbed Watson by the arms and flung him right over the edge, Watson holding on to the edge for dear life. He dangled helplessly over the ground, which was a very, VERY long way down from the looks of it. Moriarty held his knife tight and stepped down on Watson's hand, making him groan in pain.

"Aww, poor Watson. Poor, miserable Joey Watson. You and Holmes have bested me for the last time. And you two." Moriarty turned around to glare at Moira and Peter; they huddled closer together in fear. "You two have meddled with my plans one too many times already! You all need to be properly dealt with!" The insane professor raised the knife, ready to deliver the final blow.

"No, Moriarty! Please, this has to stop!" Holmes said, limping into view.

"Ugh, will you give it up already, Shamus?" Moriarty groaned in annoyance.

"Moriarty… you are out of your mind." Holmes said bravely yet weakly at the same time. He kneeled, holding his wounded leg. "Kidnapping innocent families, robbing countless homes, planning to KILL CHILDREN; all of this just so you can say you are better than me? Don't you see? You will _never_ be better than me, you will _never_ be better than _anyone_ in this world! And you will never rule!"

"…Your point?"

"My point is that you are a link in the world's worst chain… and _this_ is where our story ends."

Peter and Moira looked at each other in shock, then at the men before them. Holmes's statement caused Watson to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"Come, Moriarty. Come dance with me." Holmes muttered.

"Uh oh." Moriarty quickly said to himself.

Gathering the last of his strength, Holmes suddenly threw himself at Moriarty, hurling the two over the ledge.

"Shamus!" Watson bellowed in fear.

"Mr. Holmes!" Moira and Peter screamed in terror.

The crowd of people down on the ground watched the exchange in horror and they started to panic, unsure of what to do or how to help.

"What's going on up there?!" Victor exclaimed.

"I don't know, I don't know!" Elsa wept.

"Oh, this suspense is killing me!" Jonathon said.

"I can't look!" Lydia cried, covering her eyes.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow-motion by now. Luckily, Watson still had his grappling hook pack on. Starting it up again, a large hook shot out from the pack and Holmes grabbed it before he could hit the ground. Unfortunately, Moriarty wasn't so lucky. He landed in a huge rose bush with a scream and a loud crash. Many people had surrounded the bush and by that time, Inspector LeStrade, the police, and a bunch of reporters and photographers had arrived. Moriarty was covered in thorns and roses from head to toe and he was rather dizzy and disoriented. He fainted.

The grappling hook had pulled Holmes back up to the roof and Watson, Moira, and Peter pulled him to safety.

"Are you okay?" Watson asked.

"I'm fine, thanks to you all." Holmes answered, breathing heavily.

"Mr. Holmes, your leg!" Moira cried, eying the gash in Holmes's leg.

"What? Oh, no Moira. It's fine, just a cut. Nothing to worry about, I assure you." Holmes replied.

"Come on, everyone. Let's head back down to solid ground before we slip and fall." Watson said, opening a nearby window.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Peter said.

"Yeah. I've had just about enough adventure for one night." Moira said as she and her companions crawled through the window back into the castle.


	16. The Aftermath

By the time Holmes's injuries were all patched up and Peter and Moira were reunited with their family, Moriarty was already detained and ready to be taken away to prison. Holmes and Watson were suddenly bombarded with cameras and news reporters.

"Shamus Holmes, how did you solve the case?" One reporter asked.

Holmes remained silent and gave Watson a look before they pulled Pater and Moira closer to them. The two children were shocked by this; what were Holmes and Watson doing?

"It was actually Peter and Moira who saved the day." Holmes said.

Moira and Peter's eyes widened. "Us?!" They looked at each other, then at Holmes at Watson, that at the paparazzi before them.

"Of course." Watson said, grinning and giving Peter a pat on the back.

"Watson and I may have stopped Moriarty at the end, but you two are the true heroes." Holmes said, placing his hands on Moira's shoulders and smiling.

"Well to be honest, it was more of a team effort." Moira said, blushing in embarrassment.

"Yeah, we _all_ played a part." Peter added. "And you should know that after a bit of research, we realized that Professor Nigel Moriarty had faked his death during his last fight with Mr. Shamus Holmes and he was planning on using a book on witchcraft to secure himself the throne."

"However… the book he found was just a cheap knockoff book from a tiny hole in the wall book store. The book was a fraud and we stopped Professor Moriarty from making a complete fool of himself." Moira concluded.

"Couldn't have said it better ourselves." Watson said proudly.

"And perhaps… Inspector Fredrick LeStrade should take it from here. We need a moment to ourselves." Holmes said before he and Watson took Peter and Moira away from the cameras and reporters.

"Inspector LeStrade, did you know anything about Holmes and Watson enlisting two children to help them?" One reporter asked LeStrade.

"Well, no… but it's still a funny story." LeStrade said.

"Pardon me, mind if _we_ cut in?" Muriel said as she and Louise joined LeStrade.

"Muriel and I just want to say a few things about our dear little brother, Shamus." Louise added.

"I have a few things to say, too!" Madame Zhen exclaimed as she and Fang pushed their way through.

"Hey, hey! One at a time! One at a time, please!" LeStrade cried, trying to keep everything under control.

As LeStrade, Muriel, Louise. Fang, and Zhen attempted to talk with the press, Watson and Holmes led the kids to another corner of the palace courtyard where Victor, Elsa, Jonathon, Lydia, and even Melanie and Imogen were waiting for them.

Holmes looked at Victor and smiled. "So, Victor Frankenstein… this is how we finally meet in person."

"Definitely not what I had in mind, but what can you do, right Shamus?" Victor chuckled as the two men shook hands.

"You two know each other?" Melanie asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"Of course. Victor and I used to be pen pals when we were children." Holmes happily explained. "Oh, I also wanted to apologize for not writing back to you for all these years, Victor. I was just so busy and I just didn't have time anymore."

"It's okay, Shamus. I'm sorry for not reaching out either. Life happens to all of us, you know." Victor said.

"You're right, old friend. Thank you for understanding. And I must say, Victor, you and Elsa have incredibly brave and clever children. You two must be very proud."

"We always are." Victor wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulder before Elsa kissed his cheek. Moira and Peter giggled.

"We're proud of them, too." Lydia commented, playfully ruffling Moira's hair.

"For a couple of Yanks, you two are real heroes, you know that?" Imogen said, folding her arms and smirking.

"Thanks, ma'am." Peter said; they shook hands.

After a moment, Melanie suddenly leaned in and gave Holmes a quick kiss on the cheek. Holmes's eyes widened in shock and his cheeks turned bright red in response.

"Sorry, Shamus. I know this is so unorthodox, but it's just I've always sort of like you and I thought I…" Melanie trailed off.

Then out of nowhere, he grabbed Melanie by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eye. He had a serious expression on his face.

"I've always found you extremely attractive, even when we were teenagers!" He quickly said before he pressed his lips against hers.

Everyone's eyes widened in shock and surprise. When Holmes and Melanie pulled away, Melanie's face flushed and she nearly fainted. Imogen playfully smirked and Watson gently nudged Holmes in the ribs with his elbow.

"I had no idea you had it in you, Holmes." Watson added.

"Shamus, you dog." Imogen taunted.

Holmes rolled his eyes. Melanie remained silent; she was in complete shock at this point. But she couldn't stop smiling; Imogen the hoisted her employee up and tried to walk away with her so she could sit down. Holmes then turned his attention to Moira; he got down to her level and looked her in the eye.

"Moira Frankenstein… thank you. Thank you so, so much for everything. I don't think I could've done this without you." He said, putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling.

"You're… welcome, Mr. Holmes." Moira said shyly.

"And I can tell you with certainty that you, my dear, have just what it takes to be a real sleuth."

"I do?!"

"Absolutely. But I must warn you, my child, being a detective is a _very_ difficult job and it certainly will not be easy. So I suggest you read, study, and practice as much as you can. You must see, but you must also observe your surroundings. And if you keep it up, I believe you'll make a _great_ detective someday."

Moira smiled and wrapped her arms around Holmes in a hug. He was taken a back, but after a moment, he reluctantly hugged her back.

"And thank you for your help, Peter Frankenstein." Watson said to Peter. "None of this would've been possible without your help."

"Thank you, doctor." Peter said as they shook hands.

"Oh, get over yourselves!" Moriarty shouted as two police officers restrained him.

Holmes and Watson rolled their eyes as Holmes stood straight. Elsa narrowed her eyes at the demented professor.

"I'll just be a minute." She said to Victor before wandering over to Moriarty.

"What do you want?" He sneered before Elsa took his cuffed hands and twisted his arm as hard as she could. Moriarty cried out in pain. "What in the world?! What was tha—why would you do that?!"

"That was for wasting our time. _This_ …" She stomped down hard on his foot with the sharp heel of her shoe. "…is for kidnapping me and my husband. _This_ is for holding all of us hostage." She slapped him hard across the face. "And _this_ … is for trying to kill my children!" She then used her knee to kick Moriarty hard in the groin. He made a face and bent over in pain as she folded her arms over her chest.

Holmes and Watson's eyes were wide with surprise as they looked at Victor; he had a proud smile on his face.

"Wow…" Watson said.

"I know. Elsa can be pretty terrifying when she wants to be. I love her so much." Victor said; Jonathon and Lydia nodded as Peter and Moira giggled.

"That's our girl." Jonathon chimed in, holding Lydia close.

"This doesn't change anything!" Moriarty shouted as Elsa walked back to her family. "You haven't seen the end of me, Shamus Holmes! The same goes for you, Frankenstein family! Mark my words! I'll get you for this, if it's the last thing I do!"

"Just give it up already, you crazy, pompous old creep!" Peter yelled. "You'll never beat Holmes and Watson, no matter how many times you try!"

"Yeah! And I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to rethink everything, in your nice warm JAIL CELL!" Moira added.

"They're right, Nigel. The game is finally over and you've lost." Watson chimed in.

"Argh! And I would've gotten away with my brilliant plans too, if it weren't for you Shamus Holmes, Dr. Joseph Watson, and those two meddling American BRATS!" Moriarty screamed in anger as he was shoved into the back of a police car.

Moira and Peter looked at each other in shock; did they just hear what they thought they heard? Or were they just dreaming it?

"Peter, did you hear that?" Moira asked.

"I did. I totally did." Peter replied.

"He just called us meddling kids! That's so cool!" Moira exclaimed.

Everyone in the courtyard cheered and clapped in applause as the police car holding Moriarty drove away.

"Excuse me, Mr. Holmes? Mr. Shamus Holmes, over here!" A young woman holding a camera said, waving her hand to get Holmes's attention.

"Yes?" Holmes asked.

"I'm a photographer for the local gazette. Would you mind if I take a picture of you, Dr. Watson, and the Frankenstein kids for tomorrow's paper?" The woman asked.

Holmes looked at Watson, then at Peter and Moira. They all nodded in approval.

"Great! Then could you all just scrunch together?" The photographer asked; the group of four did as they were told. "Okay, now smile!"

They smiled and the camera flashed.


	17. Epilogue

"And that's what I did over spring break." Moira said, proudly holding up the London newspaper with her, Peter, Holmes, and Watson on the front page.

The entire class clapped their hands in applause. She gave a tiny bow.

"Wow! That's quite the adventure!" Mrs. McHenry said in astonishment.

"Thank you, Mrs. McHenry." Moira replied with a smile.

"Just like Sabrina Drake, huh?" Shelley Sue asked as she raised her hand.

"You could say that, sure." Moira chuckled, nodding her head.

"Well, I still can't believe you actually solved a real live mystery in London!" Giselle cried, raising her hand.

"I know what you mean, Giselle. But if I didn't experience it for myself, I probably wouldn't believe it either. But after that experience, I now know exactly what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a detective, just like Shamus Holmes." Moira explained.

"A detective, hmm?" Mrs. McHenry asked.

"That's' right, ma'am. And if I'm really going to be a master sleuth, I realized I'm going to need all of the practice I can get. And that's why I decided I'm going to start my own junior detective agency. I call it 'Frankenweenie Investigations'. If there's ever a case to crack, a mystery to solve, a secret to uncover, I'll be there." She looked at the newspaper in her hands and smiled. "And maybe someday, I'll be just as good as the great Shamus Holmes."

The class clapped their hands again.

"But being a detective is a pretty big job. Are you sure you can handle it, dear?" Mrs. McHenry asked.

"I know it won't be easy, but I'm sure I'll be fine." She answered.

"How are you so sure, hmm?" Giselle asked.

Moira smirked. "…Elementary, my dear Giselle. Elementary."


End file.
